


Sense of Life

by silver9mm



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Hurt Castiel, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Polyamory, Pregnancy, Rape Aftermath, Sad, Sibling Incest, Telepathic Bond, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-06
Updated: 2014-03-06
Packaged: 2018-01-14 19:08:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 29,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1277584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silver9mm/pseuds/silver9mm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I just closed my eyes and pretended it was you, if it makes you feel any better.” </p><p>That smug little smile was there, and those laughing green eyes, and Sam had to have him, had to claim his brother as his. He didn’t know, and didn’t want to know—<em>Don’t tell me!</em> he yelled at his sister silently—if other men had fucked Dean. He didn’t care. It wasn’t going to happen again, not anymore. His grip on his brother’s throat tightened and he pulled him forward, away from Leigh, bringing Dean’s face close to his own.</p><p>“If we do this, you’re ours. Mine. Leigh’s. And you never, ever, do that again.”</p><p>Dean’s face was darkening from Sam’s grip on his throat, his lips drawn back from his teeth, but he didn’t struggle. His mouth moved and Sam barely made out the words.</p><p>“Make me.”</p><p>“Ours,” Leigh said, crawling towards them. “Make him ours, he means.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Post-Purgatory. TFW is living in the bunker, Cas is a little broken. Unexpected additions to the family brings them all very, very close.  
> A soundtrack for the story is here http://8tracks.com/silver9mm/sense-of-life  
> I started writing this before I was even to season three, so please forgive any mistakes or presumptions on my part.  
> No Kevin, Abaddon, Naomi or Benny mentioned, assume Dean brought Cas out of Purgatory with him. Mentions of rape by demons and emotional aftermath, not explicitly detailed.  
> Title from Juke-Joint Jezebel by KMFDM

_love, prepare yourself to shine_  
_i have no other way_  
_you should know by now_  
_no, there's no reason to hide_  
_we all know you've got pain_

 

“Where’s Cas?”  
  
Dean tried to keep his tone neutral, tried to keep the worry from the surface. Sam was the last person he needed to hide it from, but they were both keeping their secrets. Poorly.  
  
“Wandering around the bunker. I gave him headphones and some music—”  
  
“Oh, no.”  
  
“Fuck you, Dean. It’s something Ellen had in her stuff and he really likes it and it’s keeping his mind off, well, whatever, I don’t even know, but he doesn’t look like his head’s going to explode.”  
  
“Alright. Thanks, man.” Dean watched his brother’s fingers tap erratically over the computer keyboard and Sam shrugged noncommittally.

“No, really.” Dean’s voice softened and Sam looked up over the monitor at him, startled. “You’re really good to him, Sammy. He needs it. Thank you.”

Sam smiled and ducked his head, trying to hide in his shaggy hair, but Dean had seen his blush and he nodded to himself, pleased as ever to make his little brother uncomfortable. He rocked back on his heels and rubbed his neck, wondering what to do. Sam was obviously absorbed in whatever he was researching and if Castiel was having a moment of peace, well, he deserved it, so Dean was just going to have to find some other way to occupy himself. The usual first thought in Dean’s head when he’s got absolutely nothing better to do occurred to him, but he brushed it away. Lately his thoughts were too muddled to find much satisfaction there. Cas was as ever at the forefront of those thoughts, but the pain and confusion on his friend’s face was a lot less arousing than the anger and interest from last year.

 _Feeling more with your heart than your dick, are we?_ his own voice said, only a little mockingly.

And he’d found himself remembering— _F_ _antasising about_ , the voice corrected—being kids with Sam. So many nights their father had disappeared out the door, his body rattling with weaponry, his movements creaking with leather holsters, his admonishment to ‘take care of your brother’ hollered over his shoulder slapping against Dean’s ears like a cuff to the head, so many of those nights he’d held onto Sam in the dark, so many hours he’d lain with his younger brother’s slight body shaking in his arms, feeling like he’d lost something, had forgotten something, a nagging sensation in his chest, and he had squeezed Sammy closer to him.  
  
“Ach,” he grunted, his face suddenly hot. He sniffed and turned away before Sam could look up and see him— _W_ _hat? Ready to cry?_

He spun, his boots squeaking loudly, and headed for his car, determined there were knives in need of sharpening. His eyes down just in case he happened to pass Cas on the way, he nearly collided with the woman standing at the top of the stairs. Inside the bunker.  
  
“What the fuck!” he yelled. He heard Sam’s chair clatter and his steps race up behind him, heard him trip, his hands slap against the stairs, and the woman looked past Dean down at his brother and the oddest look of compassion crossed her face. He resisted looking behind him. Instead, he palmed his pistol and cocked it loudly.  
  
“Who are you?” he demanded, chin thrust out. “How did you get in here?”  
  
“I am not an enemy, Dean Winchester,” the woman said evenly, her accent obvious and thick.  
  
“Well, Mary Poppins, what do you want?”  
  
“My name is Katherine Price. I came in through the door. I have a special key. Your father gave it to me.”  
  
“What?” Dean and Sam’s voices mingled, blurting out the same question. Dean chanced a glance back at his brother, found him half way up the stairs, clutching the rail with white knuckles.

“Sam! You ok? Come here,” Dean commanded, worried he might fall, that he was feeling sick or something. His face was so pale. Sam pulled himself up the last few stairs. Dean could hear him taking quick, gulping breaths.  
  
“Seriously, lady, what the fuck do you mean? How do you know our father? How did you get in here?”  
  
The woman sighed, tightened her lips, and said patiently. “I walked through the door. Your father said I could find you whenever, if ever, I needed to. Here is the key.” She held out her hand to them, palm up. Her first two fingers where dark.  
  
“It’s blood, Dean,” Sam said, his gasping louder. “Our blood, and she’s a witch.”  
  
“Clever boy,” Katherine said.


	2. Chapter 2

_spout of holy water_  
_pour it on my only daughter_  
_maybe there's a shot she'll begin again_  
_so wrong,_  
_and I'm here to make it right for what it's worth_

 

Dean watched the woman warily. She seemed harmless enough, but he damn well knew better. She had on a smart—he guessed that would be the word for it—plum coloured dress, grey heels, not too tall, and a grey trench coat. Her hair was black, streaked with silver at the temples where it was swept back into a bun at her nape, the only evidence of her age, as her face was line free. Mature, undoubtedly, and attractive, Dean decided, but not young. At her request they had gone back down the stairs, Dean’s gun still in his hand, his other on his brother’s arm, half dragging, half supporting him. They were sitting at the table now. Katherine had her hands together, long fingers laced loosely, and she regarded the brothers evenly for some time, her nearly black irises going slowly back and forth between them until Dean banged his palm against the table. Sam jumped.

“Listen, I’m trying to be patient here, Miss. Misses? Whatever. Why don’t you spit it out. How do you know our father, and one more time, what do you want?”

She smiled, looking down at her hands, but Dean could tell she was reluctant to begin.

“Your father came to me twenty seven years ago,” she said finally and her eyes lifted and locked onto Sam.

“He’s dead now,” Sam nearly whispered, and Dean shifted slightly to press his leg against his brother’s for comfort. What was wrong with Sam?

“I know he is, Samuel. The same spirit who led him to me brought the news of his passing. I was sorry to hear of it.”

“Wait, a...spirit? Brought him to you? What the hell are you talking about?”

“Dean, you’re as impatient as he was, but hopefully not as afraid.”

“Afraid!” Dean leapt to his feet. “My father—” he shouted.

“I need your help,” Katherine said, still looking at Sam, ignoring Dean’s outburst.

“Why?” Sam said, almost tonelessly, but the expression on his face spoke of pain.

She watched him, her eyes softening. “Samuel, you already know why, don’t you? I can see the spell is breaking down. It began the moment you saw me.”

“No...” Sam whimpered.

“Are you doing something to him? Because, bitch, if you are—” Dean’s hand began to rise, the pistol ready.

“Your father, Dean, brought the four of you to me all those years ago and begged me, insisted, threatened and tried to bribe me, to weave a spell around you all. To protect you. Sam’s connection to her is so strong that the spell is unraveling by itself.”

“Four of us? Who—What are you talking about!” Dean was nearly screaming, though it wasn’t at the woman so much as it was to hear himself over the static in his ears.

“Dean, you are the firstborn son of John Winchester and Mary Campbell, and Sam is the last born son, and you both have your destinies; there are prophecies and paths laid before you, and your journeys will prove them false or fulfill them. Your father knew some of what fate has in store for you, but he felt his sons could face the trials in their lives. What was destined for Leigh Winchester was something he could not bear, however.”

At that name, Sam suddenly roared. His head snapped back, his hands came up and covered his face and he sobbed loudly before rocking forward. Dean tried to catch him, afraid he was going bang his head against the table, but Sam’s fingers dug into his own hair and he held his head that way, face down, eyelids fluttering, his eyes rolling in their sockets until they showed white. Dean’s hand hovered over his brother’s head, but he felt his own vision graying and he wiped his face with the back of the hand still holding the gun. He looked at it, confused, then looked at the witch woman, who was still sitting, watching the brothers with that awful patience and pity. Dean didn’t even realise when he put the gun down on the table, or that the woman snaked a hand out and drew it to one side, away from Sam.

“Leigh?” Dean managed, his lips numb.

“Your sister, Dean. Sam’s twin. Older than him by mere minutes. You will remember her now.”

To Dean it was like being punched in the heart. He staggered back, trying to balance himself, could not. He dropped to the floor, hard, his knees showing bruises the next day, but he did not feel it now. A wind was rushing through him, making his chest cold and giving the feeling of being pulled from behind, lifted somehow, which turned into the sensation of being dropped. He fell forward, as Sam had, catching himself on his hands, and, crouched there, he remembered.

Two babies. His parents had brought them home from the hospital and he loved them instantly. He had not been jealous even a bit. He’d held his little brother first, and Sam drooled and cooed and smiled, and then he’d laughed when Leigh was placed in his arms because she was feisty, his dad had said, chuckling as well. The little girl thrashed and squealed and had wiggled her arms free of the blanket and had grasped Dean’s shirt in her tiny fists and seemed to look right at him. Later, when his dad had thrust both babies into his arms and bellowed at him to get out of the house, and the fire had seemed like it was getting hotter even as he’d run from it, he’d nearly dropped Leigh. He’d gotten so mad at himself for being small, being weak, the babies were so heavy together and he was so afraid, and he’d not wanted to let go of her when the firemen came and checked them for burns. He’d not let his eyes off his sister, and when he’d found out his mother wasn’t coming out of that house, wasn’t coming back, ever, he’d hugged Leigh tightly, sad for himself, sad for his father, but it was agony to know the twins would never know their mommy. He decided then he would make himself remember everything he could about their beautiful, sweet mother and tell them when they were older, and it was in this sort of daze, this fugue of trying to commit to memory every hug, every cookie, every soft word, every fairy tale she’d ever read to him, every time she’d laughed, that he didn’t notice, didn’t really realise, that his father was sort of going mad. One day he’d found himself on an airplane, the twins crying until his father slipped them both whisky in their bottles and the passengers had sighed around them in relief and then it was as if everyone was speaking some sort of weird language he could almost understand in a place of spiky buildings and fog, and then he was standing in front of Katherine Price and she looked exactly the same then as she did now, and after she had laughed at his father, cursed at him, told him to leave and eventually relented and listened to him shouting at her, she had gestured, and a girl, not much older than himself, had pried Leigh out of his arms and walked away with her, and this woman had walked away with his father and he was left standing in a chilly room with his whimpering baby brother, very scared. He never thought of the baby girl again.

“You cursed us,” he spat, barely able to raise his head, glaring at the impassive woman.

“No, I spared you. Or so that’s what your father thought of it as.”

“Why?” Dean pushed himself off his hands and settled back on his heels, not trusting himself to stand though he wanted to spring up and strangle the witch.

“I could not convince your father that the prophecy he’d uncovered concerning Leigh was perhaps a plant, a fake, or at least mistranslated. He felt he needed to protect her from her potential future and my school was a safe haven. He begged me to separate your memories of Leigh, to bind them so there was no way for anyone, or anything, to find out where she was. I did my very best, and I can see that it worked. You have obviously lived your lives in ignorance of her.”

“Did...did Dad remember?” Dean asked through clenched teeth.

“No. He was made to forget, as well. You should forgive him, Dean. He did the best thing he knew to do to protect her.”

“Protect her from what? And where is she? Wait, you said your school...was a safe haven. Was?”

“She’s gone. She’s been taken. I assume someone or something found her that knew of the prophecy and they are trying to fulfill it.”

Dean opened his mouth to speak, to ask the questions that were roiling upside him, but Sam shuddered and cut him off, horribly.

“They have her, oh god, they found her, they have her, she’s sorry, sorry people died for her, they’re hurting her, over and over again, so many of them—she hates them, will kill them, but she can’t, there’s too many, all of them, hurting her, she wants to die, she wants to live, she hurts so much—”

“Jesus christ, Sam.” Dean scrambled to his feet and pulled his brother’s hands away from his face. “Sammy, look at me, c’mon, it’ll be ok, we can help her now!” But the litany just kept pouring from his brother.

“What’s the matter with him?” Dean turned to Katherine, frantic. “Why is he doing this?”

“He can feel her. She’s incredible, Dean. The strongest witch I’ve ever seen. Twins are often telepathic, and now that the medication and spell have both worn off, she’s looking for him, looking for you both I would imagine, but perhaps all she can transmit is what is happening to her now.”

“Now? She...fuck, oh fuck...” He grabbed Katherine’s arms and jerked her up from the table and dragged her, unresistant, away from Sam, who was now grinding the heels of his hands into his eyes.

“What the fuck is the prophecy? It sounds like she’s being raped. Is that what’s happening to her right now?” He shook Katherine. She let out a grunt of discomfort, her hair coming loose from its pins and straggling around her sharp cheekbones. She pulled herself free of Dean’s grasp and looked at him evenly.  
  
“I believe so, yes. Your father discovered she’s to be ‘The Wife of the Keeper of Souls’, and that she’s to give birth to a god incarnate.”

She watched as Dean tried to register the words, tried to find some reference, some base for the title, saw him cast a lost look at his brother now rocking back and forth in his seat.

“Keeper of Souls...” he worked out. “God’s wife, or...the devil’s?”

Katherine nodded. “The demons have her, Dean. They came for her, killed many at the school who tried to defend her, and they took her. I don’t know where, but I know why. There are many fallen, many demons, who believe themselves to be keepers of souls, and I assume they are all...trying to find out if they’re the ones to impregnate her with a god.”

Dean felt sick. He physically felt like throwing up right there on this woman’s neat grey shoes. Sam cried out suddenly and Dean grabbed Katherine’s arm again.

“Can you help him? I can’t do this without him. If it’s like you say, if there’s...a lot of them, I need him.”

Katherine put her soft hand over Dean’s on her arm and smiled up at him. “I can help him, Dean. I can show him ways of blocking her telepathy, of protecting himself. He’ll need to know how to open and close the connection that will help you find her, but it will be very hard on him the closer you get to her. Do you understand?”

He nodded. She patted his hand and pulled away, gliding across the room towards Sam, hunched over the table, his arms around his head. She pulled a chair close to him and leaned in. Dean could hear her voice but not her words and, as determined as he was to stay and guard his brother, when Sam began to sob, loudly, and the noise was punctuated by more words describing what was happening to Leigh...to their _sister_ , Dean turned and fled.


	3. Chapter 3

_searching for a common soul_  
_i've been looking_  
_for a thousand and one distractions_  
_to empty my mind_  
_of thoughts of loneliness_

 

It was torment, this feeling. This elation. He knew now what he’d always felt was missing, but that it had been revealed this way was almost too much to bear. Worse, he couldn’t decide if given the choice, he’d turn things back to the way they were, choose to forget about her again if it was possible to spare her what was happening now. His knees were still weak and he was shaking all over, a kind of shock going through him, and he leaned against a wall and let the tears come. Tears for what he couldn’t imagine his sister was enduring, tears for Sam having to share that with her, and tears for himself, for having lost them both at one time or another. He’d lost everyone. His mother, father, friends, lovers, his siblings. Even his angel. Even Cas. Fuck, where was Cas? He stumbled down the hall, wiping his face with his shirt and peaking around corners and into rooms, looking for his friend.

He was standing in an empty room, his eyes closed, his head slightly back. Dean slowed his pace, taking the time to study him. His beautiful face— _that thought came awfully easy today_ , said himself—was relaxed, the tiniest hint of a smile curling the corners of his lips, and Dean traced the lines of his cheek and jaw down to his exposed throat, seeking the pulse there, and his hand came up of its own accord, wanting to touch the skin, wondering desperately if it would be cool or warm on his fingertips. On his lips.

“ _‘If I don't reach you by this time tomorrow, I'll be stone cold dead in the ground. Death will be my bride... Death will be my bride...’_ ”

Dean froze. Cas’ voice was amazing. Of course it would be. A blossom of heat flowered in his stomach then, winning a small niche in the otherwise petrified waste of his body and he reached out, not caressing Cas’ neck like he didn’t even care that he wanted to, instead, he tugged gently at the wire hanging from Cas’ ear. The headphone popped out and Cas opened his eyes, squinting at Dean for a long moment, then he smiled, and the melt reached Dean’s heart and he thought if Cas where to hug him right now, he’d burst into flames.

“Dean, what’s the matter?”

The horror flooded back, rushing over and drowning out the warmth with a tiny hiss of expelled breath.

“Something’s up,” he started, cleared his throat, tried again. It came out confused and garbled anyway. By the end of it, Cas was holding Dean, though it was only a hand pressed to his shoulder.

“I’ll help if I can,” Cas said. “I can feel if there is a large congregation of demons. Perhaps Sam will not have to expose himself to Leigh’s pain every time. I can take some of that burden from him, at least when we are close. It would be worse for him, then, right?”

“Yeah, I guess that’s the way it works.” Dean shuffled his feet for a moment before glancing at Cas from under his lashes. “You’ll be careful, right? I know you don’t like to fight. But if you’ll help us get to her, you can just play it safe, ok? Will you?”

Castiel smiled and Dean couldn’t help but smile back. “I will, Dean.”

“I can’t lose you, Cas.” Dean couldn’t stop himself, either. “Not again. Please, not again, don’t go anywhere, don’t leave. I’ve lost everyone, and I’m fucking dying inside and if I lose you I don’t know how I can keep going and be sane. How I could keep from losing my shit completely. This is... I’ve never felt like this. Losing Leigh once as a baby and then remembering losing her, getting her back now just to know she’s gone... I am trying to keep it together for Sam, and I’m sorry, Cas, but I need you.”

He hadn’t realised he’d taken a step towards Cas with nearly every word he’d spoken and now he was so close to the angel he was pressed against him. If he tilted his head down, their brows would touch, their eyelashes would mingle. He could feel Castiel’s warm breath on his cheek. There was a movement, and Dean closed his eyes when Cas slid a hand between them and pressed it against his chest. Dean leaned in, letting Cas support his weight just a little.

“I’m right here,” Cas said, and held Dean up for a moment longer. Then he slid his arm around Dean’s waist and turned them both. “Come on, we should see if Sam is ok.”

Dean allowed himself to be led from the room and through the bunker, back to the front of the building. Things were very much as he’d left them. Sam was still at the table, the witch woman Katherine Price was sitting next to him, her hand on Sam’s wrist, but there was a stillness that was nonexistent before. Both people’s eyes were closed and Cas stopped, pulling Dean to a halt with him— _his arm is still around your waist, Dean—_ and they waited until the magic was complete.

Sam opened his eyes first and his head turned automatically and he found Dean as if he’d known exactly where he was. Perhaps he had. Sam’s eyes were almost colourless with grief and pain, but they were no longer flickering, spinning, close to madness, and he even blinked, slowly and, Dean knew, meaningfully, as he took in his brother and Castiel.

“Katherine,” Sam said, his voice rough as though he’d been screaming, “this is Cas.”

Politely, Cas loosed his hold on Dean and stepped forward to take the woman’s hand, and all three men were surprised when she gasped as she took his fingers. She clutched at Cas, both hands coming up and her nails dug into the skin of his hand and he tried to pull away but she clung to him, her mouth working as if her jaw hurt. Her eyes huge and round, she seemed to gain control of herself and stood, withdrawing her hands hastily. Cas cocked his head.

“I am sorry. You just surprised me. You remind me of someone. Someone I knew, but I can’t place it. Forgive me for startling you. Dean, you and Sam have to go after Leigh. Now. She was taken this morning, rather, it was last night for you. We searched for her ourselves and determined she’s no longer in England.”

“England?”

“I came as soon as we knew she’s here in the States, and I have to go back now. Many are hurt and I am needed, but I will return as soon as I can. I have given Sam all that I can to help you find her. She has a locator spell attached to her, but it will weaken considering the energy around her, so you have to go now.” She took a tentative step forward, her eyes going to Castiel warily once more before she gathered herself and stood straight again. “I don’t know what the prophecy holds for her. I don’t know if what is happening to her will bear fruit, or whether it will be poisonous. I shall do my best to uncover more, and I regret that I have done so little. I foolishly believed she was safe, and for that I apologise. Find her, Dean and Samuel Winchester. Find your sister and protect her.” Katherine Price gave a nod to Dean and Cas, turned to Sam and pressed her hand against his head, and vanished.

“Holy shit!” Dean said, surprised.

Cas wrinkled his nose at Dean and went to sit next to Sam. “What did she tell you? How can we find her?”

Katherine and Sam had worked together to locate her using her tracking spell. It was five hours to Denver; five hours of Sam hunched over in the crash position, retching periodically, Castiel’s cool fingers rubbing gently on the back of Sam’s neck, Dean trying not to see it, five hours that turned to three quickly as Dean put his foot down and the Impala tore across flatlands into foothills and towards the mountains. When the signs began to show the way to the city, Castiel just pulled Sam into the back seat with him, unflinchingly meeting Dean’s gaze in the mirror as he held Sam against his chest as he tried not to scream, and he implored Sam to shut off the connection to Leigh as much as he could, promising him that he could hear them, hear the congregation of the demonic, could feel them and they wouldn’t lose the trail. Sam wouldn’t do it, not at first, but the closer they got, the more he suffered until Dean yelled at him.

“God damn it, Sammy, shut it off! You’re losing it and we still have to fight. Let Cas handle it from here or so help me, I’ll pull this car over and knock your ass out!”

He winked at Cas in the mirror when Sam relented. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath and then gasped as if he’d been pinched and Cas caught him as he slid sideways, pulled him against his chest again and held him as Sam passed out, mercifully, for half an hour or so.

When he awoke, he said, “Truck stop.”

“What’s that, Sammy?”

“I get that, too,” Cas supplied. “Something big, boxy. It would make sense, moving her around. They could pick up demons along the way across the country. It’s not just demons, either. Other creatures have caught on to what is happening.”

It wasn’t a truck stop, but rather a huge lot were a defunct grocery chain was still storing its rigs. By the time they had reached the lot, loaded up on weapons, and were creeping forward on foot, even Dean could feel it. Or smell it, he thought, but said nothing. There was blood on the air, and a repugnant burning smell, like an electrical fire. Sam had said there was no way they were going to kill Leigh, she was too important, but the demons were going to do everything they could to keep her.

There were a hundred or more, milling around an unattached trailer. _—_ _That’s a bonus,_ Dean thought, _at least they can’t take off with her._ A steady stream in a single line were shuffling in and out of the open doors, but there were some grouped up in clusters, eyeing other groups, occasionally posturing and threatening until fights broke out that were gruesome, bloody, and short. Some were in human form, some where not, maybe some of them were actual humans. Dean didn’t care. That they were fighting amongst themselves was also in the Winchester’s favour. They would be distracted, disorganized and not interested in saving each other.

“Alright, we’re good on the plan? Chase away as many as we can. Cas, you stay here and keep the fires burning. Sam, you’ve got my back, and I’m going in to get her. Sam!”

His brother jumped and shut his eyes for a moment before shaking his head to clear it and nodding at Dean. “Got it.”

“Cas, you can do this. Just toss the bottles there, follow them as they move. You don’t even have to kill any but I’d really appreciate it if you did, but herd them away from the trailer. Here’s my lighter. I want it back. Now let’s go get our sister, Sam.”

Dean didn’t stop to see if his brother was going to throw up again. He ran. Sam’s footsteps crunched through the gravel behind him. When he signaled, a glass bottle sailed over their heads as they hid behind the closest rig, and shattered against the ground. There was a roar from the nearest group of demons as the Molotov cocktail spattered some of them with fire and they lurched away from the heat into another group who shoved them back. Several caught fire and there were various pops and whooshes and screams and Dean grinned at his grim little brother.

The steady rain of flaming bottles pushed the crowd from one side of the lot towards the other, herding the snapping and hissing demons into closer quarters. Some began to flee and Dean longed to pick them off as they ran, guessing they’d already done what they had came here to do and that’s why it was no bother to them to take off.

 _—Later_ , he said to himself. _You’ll get them all eventually._

He and Sam moved behind the flames, dodging burning puddles and finding their way through the petering walls of fire, inching towards the open trailer, using the fire as a shield. The burst of the shotgun was the first signal that some of the creatures had sense enough to circle around and come up behind them and Sam was doing his job guarding their backs. They were close enough to the opening now, and Dean slapped his brother’s shoulder and vaulted into it, the Colt up and cocked. That he didn’t start firing instantly was only because he couldn’t see Leigh through the thick mass of writhing bodies around her. Human and monstrous, they were packed about a central spot in the trailer and did not seem the least concerned about the shooting, screaming or burning going on around them, concentrating instead on winning a place at the center of the pile. They were by turns cheering each other on or ripping each other to shreds, jerking each other away and pushing forward, shoving others to the side and for a second Dean caught a glimpse of hair the colour of honey hanging to the floor, and then he splashed holy water over the backs and heads of those closest to him.

“Cold shower time, assholes.”

Hissing and smoldering, the crowd broke apart and Dean advanced, firing carefully now. At faces, chests and occasionally lower. When the bottle went dry he tossed it and the demon knife replaced it. Some of the demons fought heartily, but not one that had been in the trailer got out alive, not with Sam standing at the exit with a shotgun, especially.

“Dean! Some are coming back! Get her and let’s go!” Sam’s voice was shrill and unnatural and when Dean glanced at him he could see his brother was shaking, the proximity to his sister’s terror and pain almost too much for him. He closed his eyes for just a moment, steeling himself, and then he stalked across the gore strewn trailer to where his little sister lay on pallets.

The tears that cut clean swathes down his cheeks had started with his bitten tongue but increased in flow when he rolled her naked body over onto its back and tried to lift her. She was almost too slick to get a grip on. Her legs were running with blood and he knew what else but he wouldn’t let his mind form the thought but it was green and silvery and black by turns and she was covered with it and it was getting all over him and when he got his arm under her shoulders and lifted her, she coughed and sprayed his neck and face with more of it, and the smell of her fear and everything else was burning his eyes as well and he could barely see, but he would not give her to Sam. The smoke from actual fire seemed cleansing and aromatic after the musk and sweat of the trailer. Dean followed Sam, trotting carefully with his naked sister clutched to his chest. She was alive, he knew that much. She was warm, fevered even, breathing enough to cough and he could see her bloodied and bruised face twitching and contorting in pain as he moved her as gently as he could.

“Sam, drive,” he barked.

“No, Dean—”

“You have to! Cas has to heal her, you have to drive—”— _I have to hold her—_ “Just do what I say, Sam! Get us out of here!” Hopefully it would keep Sam from communing anymore with her and he could concentrate on just getting them home. It seemed to work. Cas was waiting by the Impala, the doors open and the engine running and Sam dove into the front seat and they were spraying gravel in moments.

“Are you hurt?” Castiel asked Dean, his fingers wiping at the grime on Dean’s cheeks.

“No. Sam?”

“I’m fine.”  
  
“Cas, she is. Hurt. Very much. Can you do anything?”

Cas reached out and put his hands on Leigh’s face and Sam nearly ditched the car when an explosion of white light erupted from the angel. It flung him back and Sam yelled as the car fish-tailed before finding its path again and rocketing forward.

“Cas! What the fuck! What was that?” Dean’s eyes were watering again from the light.

“I... She...” Castiel was plastered against the seat, staring at Leigh’s still form as if it was going to jump up and try to kill him. “I don’t know!” he cried.

“Did you fix her?”

“I think so, a little bit at least. I can’t touch her again.”

“What? Why not?”

“I can’t. It’s not safe. I don’t know how I know, but don’t ask me to again. She won’t die, I know that. But I don’t think it’s safe for me to make contact.”

“What the fuck, Cas.”

“I’m sorry.” With that, the angel would say no more and went out of his way to keep from touching the girl in Dean’s arms.

They considered stopping somewhere, but everything this side of Hell probably knew she was around by now and would be coming to find her again and the best place to keep her safe was the bunker. Leigh seemed to have benefited from Castiel’s momentary contact, however. She stirred a few times in Dean’s arms, mostly crying out and twisting frantically and it was all he could do to hold on to her. Her eyes flickered open once and he caught a glimpse of the ocean in them.

“She doesn’t know where she is,” Sam rasped, his jaw clenched tight.

“Just keep drivin’, Sam.” To his sister, he whispered, “Baby girl, you’re with your family now.”

As soon as the car was parked, Sam flung the door open and threw up on the ground. At the same moment, Leigh screamed and her nails raked down Dean’s face before he could block her. Her eyes were open, — _uh oh, no one’s home—_ and glaring up at him as she fought to hurt him again.

“Whoa, whoa, now, not the face, ok?” Dean pinned her arms and struggled to get her out of the car without dumping them both over. Cas was no help; he’d gone to Sam’s aid, though Dean was glad of that as Leigh thrashed again and Sam was the one screaming.

“Don’t hurt me, don’t hurt me don’t hurt me—”

“Sam! Cas, fuck, open the door!”

“It’s burning her, hurts so much, her skin, they’re crawling all over her, burrowing, pushing, biting her—”

Dean brushed by Cas, hating to leave his brother like that, on his knees and wailing, but he couldn’t take being covered in the stinking filth any more than Leigh could at this point. He kicked open the door to the shower and laid her down on the floor. Twisting the knobs with one hand and shedding his filthy clothes with the other, he was down to his briefs in moments and squeezing the contents of the shampoo bottle onto Leigh. The warm water seemed to sooth her, but when Dean’s hands began to work the suds into her skin on her thighs, she came to life again and it took all his strength to keep from getting hurt by an unconscious girl. She landed a few good blows and a long time was spent with him just holding her, his arms wrapped around hers, his legs pinning her, his face to the side to keep her from head butting him, and he just let her wear herself out writhing and screaming, unable to do anything more. Thankfully the bunker had huge water tanks and the hot water lasted long enough for him to finish, very gently, cleaning her. He even managed to wash her hair, and then himself, and she was blessedly still as he dried them both and lifted her one last time and carried her to a small room with a bed made up for her.

Castiel was waiting by the door and Dean pretended not to notice that Cas pretended not to notice the wet, clinging briefs he was wearing. That Cas flicked his eyes away from the girl in his arms Dean was sure had less to do with her nakedness than with what had happened in the car.

Dean settled her in the bed, pulling the blankets up over her, but he didn’t back very far away. After a moment, reluctantly, Cas moved into the room and stood next to him, though he turned his back on Leigh and faced Dean.

“Thanks for your help, Cas,” Dean ducked his head, finding Cas’ blue eyes and forcing him to look up at him. “Now, tell me what that big bright light was.”

“I don’t know—”

“Don’t lie to me, Cas. You suck at it.”

“I...then, I’m not sure. It was like...it’s as if I’ve been walking through fog, and touching her was like the sun burning it all off. But I’m blinded now. I can’t make sense of what I’m seeing. Or, maybe I don’t want to?” Cas shook his head and ran a hand across his eyes. “That’s all I can say, truthfully. I’m overwhelmed, Dean. Things...the past...everything is coming back, I think.”

He looked torn between laughing and crying, and damp, nearly naked, bruised, his face scratched by his sister, Dean gave in and hugged Castiel, slipping between the folds of his trench coat and, pressing himself against the angel’s body, he held his beautiful friend, and refused to let go when Cas froze. He moved closer, holding his breath when he felt Cas’ hip against that place just above his cock, and letting that same breath out as a long sigh when Castiel’s arms curled around his ribs.

“Whatever you remember or don’t, whatever happens, Cas,” he said, loving the feel of his voice rumbling against Cas’ chest, “I'm on your side, ok?”

Castiel nodded, his stubble scrubbing wonderfully against Dean’s neck, and Dean decided it was now or never let go, because his cold briefs were no longer working to keep his cock from rising. He stepped back, smiling.

“You good?” he asked.

“I am. Thank you. But, Sam’s not. I got him inside and to his room, but he’s losing ground. He must still be picking up on her unconscious thoughts.”

“Cas, take him somewhere, I don’t know, anywhere. Go get her some clothes, some food, girl stuff—I know you have no idea, but he will, once he gets some distance between them. He needs a break, you need to convince him to put his shields back up. That Price woman said she’ll be back, remind him of that, too. And I’m going to protect Leigh. I won’t let her out of my sight for a moment. But he has to go.”

“Of course. I’ll get him.”

When Castiel didn’t move, Dean turned him by the arm to face the sleeping girl. Cas flinched back, but he couldn’t keep his eyes from her and Dean watched as Cas’ face slackened, felt his muscles bunch, felt the compact body of the angel start to almost vibrate, then he stepped in front of him, breaking his line of sight to Leigh.

“We’ll figure this out, ok?” he spoke softly.

Cas nodded, his bottom lip sucked in, his teeth visible, sinking into the flesh. Dean— _don’t, dammit!—_ reached up and pulled on it with his thumb. Cas gave a small laugh and released his lip and Dean wanted so fucking much to kiss the wet, red flesh. Cas nodded again and turned, moving away quickly down the hall. Dean closed the door to the room and locked it before leaning against it. He kept his unfocused eyes on the still form in the bed but was listening intently to the noises of the bunker. He heard low murmuring of voices, shuffling of shoes and a loud thump, then silence for a time until steadier footsteps faded away and he heard the vault door open and shut. Only then did he bring his attention back fully to his sister.


	4. Chapter 4

_My sister_  
_What made you fall from grace?_  
_I'm sorry that I was not there to catch you_  
_What have the demons done?_  
_What have the demons done?_

 

“Leigh,” he breathed, pushing himself off the wall and edging towards her.

She had fought him so hard when he had washed her in the shower. His face stung with scratches and his chest was bruised from her fists, and he did not want to startle her and have another struggle with her. But he had to be close to her. After so long, he needed to be near her.

She looked so much like their mother it had almost floored him when he’d seen her, covered in filth and blood and demons, and he had had to bite his tongue to keep from crying out. He looked down at her, a tentative fingertip dragging a strand of golden hair off her forehead. Upon closer inspection, he could see her features were indeed very much like his mother’s, but blurred with that soft broadness that came from John Winchester. She looked more like— _well, more like you do_ , he thought—and smiled. Good for her, Sam was too baby faced anyway.

She had the straight nose, full lips and wide eyes which he knew were a greyish blue, just like Mary’s. Her brows were arched, her cheekbones flat and her jaw strong. He found his fingers tracing along with his eyes and let them both slip down to her neck and to her shoulder. She was smaller than both of them, smaller than anyone in their family that Dean could think of, and thick. He remembered now, with a flush that made him withdraw his hand, how full her figure was. Her soft belly he had soaped up, her fleshy thighs he had cleaned of the blood and...everything else. When he had run his hands over her then, searching for any deep cuts that might have needed extra attention, he had, despite everything, noticed firm and obviously very strong muscles hidden under a buttery layer of fat. Once she had stopped struggling against him and they were both soaked, he had leaned her forward over his arm, trying in vain to ignore her heavy, round breasts and the weight of them pulling on him. Had checked her back for cuts, his hand and eyes sliding down, pushing away soap and grime from her muscular shoulders, down her spine and over her narrow waist that flared into wide hips and a heart-shaped ass.

“Like a wet little selkie,” he said now and took a deep breath, shaking his head at himself— _incorrigible_.

Not waking, but still frowning angrily, she tossed her head back and forth on the pillow.

“Shhh, hey, you’re safe, I promise,” he said, sinking down at her bedside.

Her teeth snapped together and he heard them grind. He put a hand on her chest and pressed her down as she arched up. She seemed to relax under his touch, the pressure soothing somehow, and when he tried to withdraw his hand she began to panic again, her face contorting in pain and the heart beneath his palm was beating entirely too fast. Tears were leaking from the corners of her eyes.

“Leigh! Honey, wake up? Please, don’t cry, you’re ok. Will you wake up?” He let his voice get loud, nearly shouting at her, but she was unresponsive, her body was wracked with sobs and her hands clawed up out of the sheet covering her to tear not at Dean’s touch but at invisible monsters, pushing and scratching at demons still tormenting her.

“Oh, baby girl, you’re gonna hurt yourself,” Dean said, catching her wrists, but even asleep she was powerful and she tore away from him, rolling on her side and curling up as she let out an earsplitting shriek. As she drew breath for another one, she curled her hands around her head and pulled herself into a ball, screaming into her knees, and she was going to do it again.

Without thinking, responding instinctively to the memory of another terrified child screaming in the night, Dean crawled over her. He lay down behind her and gathered her straining form in his arms, pulling her hard against him. He didn’t speak, he merely pressed his face against her damp hair, wiggled his body around hers, and held her.

Two more rending screams escaped before a shudder convulsed through her and she abruptly relaxed.

He thought about the movement first, closing his eyes, the shining mess of her hair burned into his vision; he thought of rocking her, and he did not know when his body picked up the queue, just that after a while she was completely limp in his arms and they were swaying together. Her hands came down away from her head and he lifted his arms and let her snuggle under them and when he hugged her again, he felt her fingers find his and lace through them and she sighed. He resumed rocking them, willing his mind to go blank, hoping that his calm would seep into her, and that it was working was evident by the trapped bird in her chest finally stilling its bruised wings and settling down.  
  
“Our hands are the same,” came a small voice and Dean took a deep breath, waking himself from near sleep. He was still rocking almost imperceptibly, and when he paused to lift his head slightly so he could see her, she made a little noise of protest and moved against him.

“I won’t stop. It’s ok, Leigh.”

She seemed to wait for him to make good his promise and several more minutes passed before she spoke again.

“I don’t know your name.”

“Well, I’m Dean Winchester. Your older brother. Sam... Sammy’s your twin.”

“Dean. And Sam. Winchester.”

“Yeah. At your service.” He gave her a squeeze and knew she was smiling somehow. “Darlin’, are you hurt? Cas... Castiel, he was able to heal you. Not completely, though. Do you understand? If you need to go to a hospital or anything like that, we need to know. We did the best we could, but you were...really messed up.”

“Did you kill them?”

Dean raised his head, but her face was hidden in her hair. He wanted to brush it away, but she was holding his fingers in a desperate grip.

“Yeah, baby girl, we did. As many as we could.”

She was quiet for a moment and then said, “Good. Thank you. I think I am ok. I would like some water, though.”

“Whatever you need.”

But she didn’t let go, and he waited, rocking her as long as she needed him to. When he felt her grip on him loosen, he waited still, letting her make the first move. Slowly, she rolled in his arms, shoulders first, then hips and legs, gingerly he felt, as if testing the theory that she was alright, and then her face came around to him and he saw her for the first time without her features distorted by agony or covered in blood. He couldn’t help grinning at her.

“Hello, Leigh Winchester.”

“Hello, Dean Winchester.”

He wanted to look at her, and the interest she showed, her large slate eyes darting around his face, her dark honey lashes narrowing as she noticed his lips, his eyes, his nose, made him not the least embarrassed about it.

“Thank you for coming to get me,” she whispered.

“Baby girl, I would have come a lot sooner if I could have. Years sooner.”

She gave a wink that was so like the family wink he couldn’t resist squeezing her tightly. “I’m glad you’re here.”

When she could breathe again, she said, “I am, too. But...”

“I know,” Dean kissed her forehead and extracted himself from her and the bed. It was then he remembered she was completely naked under the sheet and he glanced away from her, but she didn’t seem to mind. She sat up when he stood and went to get her a bottle of water, tucking the sheet nonchalantly around herself.

“Look, I know you’re too smart for any of the usual bullshit, so here’s how it is. You’re relatively safe here, right here, in this bunker. It’s guarded, spelled, locked, boarded, hi-teched, booby trapped and otherwise impervious. But that’s still no guarantee. And once you leave here, there’s even less. But you have three people with you now who are willing and able to die for you—we have all already died in some way or another, so it’s not something we’re afraid of. And you’re family, and that’s all we have.”

She took the bottle and drank, sipping as he spoke. She pushed hair off her neck and cocked an eyebrow that again made Dean almost feel he was looking in a mirror.

“Three? Is my dad here? I know my mother's dead—our mother, but—”

“No, I’m sorry. I’ll tell you about that, but not now, if that’s ok. I meant Sam, myself, and Castiel.”

“Who?”

“Cas. He’s...special. An angel. He’s my friend. He’s been through a lot with me and Sam, and he helped us find you, and you can trust him as much as you can your brothers, I swear. Well, you can make up your own mind about that, but he’s on our side.”

“Huh. Where is Sam? Can I meet him? Wait... Oh, Dean, he’s here. He’s coming!” She jumped up, staggered and started to fall.

“Whoa, wait a minute!” Dean caught her in his arms, lifting her back onto the bed. She winced and curled up again. “Let him come to you, ok? I don’t think you should move around too much, obviously. And Sam’s... Well, you were like...transmitting to him, did you know that?”

She looked up at him, alarmed.

“The whole time. He felt it all, Leigh, heard it all, saw it all, through you. Your teacher, that broad Katherine, she helped him like, turn the volume down, but he couldn’t do it all the way, or he didn’t want to, afraid he’d lose you and we wouldn’t be able to find you, but he’s really shook up.”

“Oh...”

“It’s not your fault, but it still happened. Let him come to you, though? Can you hear him now? Can you, you know, send to him? Let him know you’re ok.”

She looked up at him, her eyes misted, and she nodded. “Yeah, I can. I can hear him, too!”

“He can telepath back?”

She didn’t answer, and then her hands flew to her face. “Dean, he won’t come! He won’t come here to see me—” She turned, clutching at Dean. “Tell him I’m sorry. Tell him I won’t do it again, I won’t get in his head, I promise, please?”

“Hey, it’s ok, I’ll go talk to him, alright? Stay here. We’re right down the hall. I’ll be back."


	5. Chapter 5

_but i can't be her brother_  
_to empower her to become her_  
_trawl through this forgiveness_  
_my memory's so empathy low_

 

“I can’t, Dean. Don’t you think I want to? But I don’t know what to do, how to... It’s like I was there, the moment that lady started talking to us, it was like I was watching a movie at first, and then it was in my head, and then I could feel it, and I couldn’t get away from it.” Sam shuddered, looking at the floor.

“She’s your fucking twin sister, man. Maybe she _needs_ someone who understands what she went through? She didn’t know she was sharing it with you. It’s not like she did it on purpose.”

“I know, but...I feel like I did it. The things she was thinking, how much hatred and disgust she felt, all directed at men—”

“Demons, Sam. Monsters. Not humans. Not men. Not me, not you. Big damn difference. Besides, she didn’t freak out when I got close to her.”

“In the car though—”

“After you guys left I even took a nap with her, like I used to with you, remember? Little bed-bug.”

Sam wouldn’t let himself smile, not completely, but Dean could tell he was more at ease.

“Listen, take your time, but not too fucking much, ok? She needs to see you, she wants to see you. She said she won’t get in your head again, unless maybe you want her to. You guys can work that out. But if you avoid her too long, she might think, well, that you think something is wrong with her. Because of what happened to her. She was raped, Sam, it wasn’t her fault and you can’t do anything to make her feel like it was or that she’s contagious or something. You hear me?”

“Yeah. You’re right.”

“I know.”

“Put some pants on.”

Dean left, surreptitiously stealing one of Sam’s belts, but Sam let it go. He put his head in his hands, elbows on his knees, and tried to find the courage to go to Leigh. He knew he had to, hell, he wanted to, badly. This was his twin sister! It was strange on one hand why that mattered so much. They’d been separated before they were even a year old, technically he shouldn’t even have a memory of her at all. But...he did. Or, it was a feeling. He wasn’t sure, but it was wonderful. He closed his eyes and let the feeling grow, let the memory which had until now been buried under the recent horrors, come into focus. It was like the opening of a flower. A rose, wine coloured, and it grew so large in his mind’s eye that it engulfed him, expanding out of the space of his mind and all around him, above and below and beyond and he was floating inside of it and Leigh was there, but she had no name. He knew it was her anyway and she spoke to him with the beating of her heart and the language was all excitement and laughter and beauty, a language of love, and they were speaking it together, at the same time, giddy wonderment and joy being shared back and forth, and he knew he couldn’t wait to spend his life with her, sharing all these things again and again. They had wanted to be together, had chosen a life that would let them share love with one another, let them share in everything this world had to offer, the amazement and surprise, the good and the bad—

“Sam?”

He jumped up, startled.

“Bloody hell, you’re tall.”

When he saw her standing in front of him, it wasn’t a matter of courage anymore. There was no way he’d ever lose her again. Dean had given her the clothes he and Cas had brought back. Yoga pants, a tee shirt and a hoodie, grabbed up from the nearest mall. Her hair was in a soft, waving mass around her face and down her back, dark blonde and finger combed. Her face was covered in half healed cuts and greenish bruises, her lips split, and she was trying not to waver where she stood.

“Leigh... Sit down, please? Here, I’m sorry, my bed’s the only thing that isn’t piled with books and papers. Are you ok? I mean, is there anything I can do?”

“I’m fine, Sam. I will be, anyway. I’m not really, actually, I’m pretty fucking not ok. Yesterday, I was in Cornwall, now I’m in Kansas and I have two brothers, and I just had demons run a train on me and I can’t even think about all of that right now. I am rather bewildered and in a moderate amount of pain, though I heard something about an angel trying to heal me, is that right? I don’t know why I’m here, why I grew up without my twin brother, why I was gang raped, how you managed to save me, who my parents are, why they are dead. So, yeah, no, I’m ok. Are you ok?” Leigh stared at him for a few seconds before giggling. “Hey, I’m sorry. Don’t look so gloomy, Sam Winchester. I’m your new ray of sunshine. You want to help me?”

Sam nodded, speechless.

_Take me back to that rose._

“What?” Sam blurted, surprised.

 _Don’t talk,_ Leigh said, her voice inside his head, low in the back of his skull, her lips together in a little smile. _Don’t talk. Just look at me, and think. I saw it, too. I remember it. I remember you. I remember being unborn with you. We can start there and work our way forwards, and you can share with me, all your memories of the life I might have lived with you. If you want to. Do you want to?_

Sam nodded again.

_Then start there. Go back to that place. I need to feel that peace, please. Take me there._

Sam sat next to his sister on his bed and looked at her for a long time before putting his hand out. She placed her hand in his and he closed his eyes, lacing his fingers with hers, and he started from the beginning.

It took days, and then weeks, for Sam to fill Leigh in on what his and Dean’s life had been like. They kept their sessions short because after the first few days of hours-long telepathic communication, Sam had experienced a migraine, his body unconditioned, the outflow of energy to his sister draining him to the point of physical and mental exhaustion. The twins had both slept for nearly a full day, and then they started again, slowly, and Dean would come and stand at the doorway and watch them as they sat, statues, eyes closed, holding hands. He tried to gauge when it was coming to an end, so he could leave before they opened their eyes and he would not have to see a flood of tears. Sometimes there was laughter, or embarrassed giggles, but Dean saw tears more often than not and it tore at his heart that his little brother’s life was so fraught with pain that the twins were weeping because of it. Once, Leigh’s eyes snapped open before Dean had snuck away and he had the air knocked out of him by the force of her flying across the room and embracing him.

“You’re a fucking hero, Dean,” she sobbed against him and he patted her awkwardly, flashing his brother a confused look but Sam bit his lip and looked down and Dean realised he was embarrassed. These were Sam’s memories, and in them, Dean was a hero?

For her part, Leigh related what her life had been like. Dean loved listening to her talk, a first for any woman he’d ever known besides his mother, and he guessed it was partly due to the resemblance there and partly because of the funny accent she picked up and dropped randomly, having been raised in England but surrounded by girls of all races and ethnicity and—well, you can take the girl out of Kansas, but—he smirked at the thought.

That she wouldn’t be taken out of it again became apparent when Katherine Price made another appearance two weeks after Leigh had been rescued. She knocked this time. The sun was peeking across the land, illuminating her grey heels when Dean opened the bunker to her, and he refused to wake Leigh up until she woke on her own.

“I really can’t tell you much else,” Katherine said. “The prophecy is not something we are equipped to translate. I honestly don’t know how your father got as much out of it as he did. How is she?”

“Not really sure how she is. I don’t have much to compare it to.”

“I understand your bitterness, Dean. Your father felt she needed to be protected—”

“From her family? From herself?”

“He believed he was protecting everyone.”

“What did you believe?”

“Leigh is highly gifted and we knew that immediately. We take in many girls for many reasons and she was no different. We deemed we could help her, school her, grow her gifts and that she would be a powerful woman with our help. Your father would allow us to teach her on the condition her memory, if she had any at such a young age, was kept suppressed, and she was guarded from fulfilling the prophecy.”

“Why didn't Azazel know about her? Was she poisoned like Sam was? With demon blood?”

Katherine looked at him for a long time, perhaps wondering if it was safe to answer him. If it would endanger her. “I am very powerful, Dean. My school—my coven—is very old, very knowledgeable. Your father didn't want anyone to remember her, and we made sure of that. I don't know about the demon blood, but perhaps that is why she is such a strong telepath and is so connected to her brother.”

“How much did our dad pay you?”

“Dean—”

“A lot, I take it. We were practically homeless my entire life.”

“I had no part in what your father decided to do with—”

“You know what? Save it, lady.”

Dean kept his distance from the woman after that, milling around for another hour in the library, not so far away he couldn’t keep an eye on her, but at last he heard Sam and Leigh stirring—they seemed to wake at the same time now. Cas wouldn’t be awake for another couple of hours at least. It was weird that he was sleeping at all, actually. But Purgatory had done strange things to them both...

Dean saw Leigh’s bright head coming down the hallway. Fast.

“Whoa! Hey!” He lurched forward, but he was nowhere near quick enough to come between Katherine and Leigh, and her sword. The katana hovered an inch from Katherine’s eye, perfectly still, perfectly balanced.

“You never gave me a choice, you bitch.”

“Leigh, we did the best we could. I’m glad to see you.”

“Your best got me hurt. If I had known maybe I could have seen it coming, maybe I could have kept my friends from dying.”

Dean edged close to his sister. “Hey, darlin’, put the sword down. I’m not saying don’t be angry, but don’t skewer her, ok?”

Leigh growled but lowered her sword. It had been the first thing she had asked for once she was steady on her feet and Dean had procured the full tang katana for her happily.

“You’re right, Leigh,” Katherine said and smoothed her dress over her legs. “I am sorry, in retrospect, that you were not given the truth about who you are, what you might become. These things cannot be changed, however. We must deal with the present. We would like you to come back to teaching—”

“No,” Leigh, Dean, and Sam all said at once, the latter having followed Leigh down the hallway.

 _And hadn’t given the smallest warning Leigh was armed,_ Dean noted.

Katherine grimaced. “I don’t think this is the right place for someone like you, Leigh. Your brothers—”

“Saved my life, which is more than you could do. They’re good enough to risk their lives rescuing me but not good enough to protect me? I know more about them now than I do you, or even myself at this point, and it’s all because of the lies you perpetuated, the magic you kept my brain fogged with, and the fucking pills you used to fill in the gaps.”

Dean cleared his throat. “Yeah, um, about that. Kathy mentioned that before. What, uh, what medication?”

“Don’t.” Leigh raised her sword again.

Without moving, Katherine somehow pushed it away. Leigh glared at her fiercely, but perhaps thinking she might still convince Leigh to return with her, or that the brothers would wish her to go, she spoke. “Leigh suffers from what’s called hyper-sexuality. Nymphomania as it was formerly known.”

“I don’t suffer,” Leigh muttered.

Sam and Dean’s jaws both dropped.

“We believe it to be an affect of her supposed destiny. A sort of biological urge. To find her mate. We tried to keep it subdued until we knew what the outcome would be for the world.” Here, Katherine looked pained. “However, again I must admit mistakes were made. We felt she was doing well enough that we neglected searching for answers for her as thoroughly as we might have.”

Katherine pulled a small bottle from her pocket and set it on the table.

“I don’t want it,” Leigh snarled.

“Until you know what—”

“No, _you_ know what? Get the fuck out here. You’ve helped me quite enough. Katherine, I am grateful for everything I’ve been taught, grateful for the protection you did afford me for most of my life. But this was a big fucking lie and something I can never ever forgive you for. I will never trust you again, or anyone there. I don’t care who knew or who didn’t.”

Leigh turned to her brothers. Sam managed to close his mouth and he nudged Dean.

Leigh gave them a crooked smile. “And now you know everything about me. Do you want me to leave?”

Dean shook himself. “Pff, no.”

Leigh turned back to the woman. Her sword came up again and this time it was glowing with pale green witch fire. “Now that I know why I feel the way I do, it makes all the difference in the world. You could have told me. Instead you took the easy way out and drugged me. You were lazy and complacent and I hate you for it and now, unless you want to be split from your lying throat to that ice cave of a cunt, you had better go the fuck back to England.”

The air around Katherine Price crackled with building magic and her eyes flared gold, but after a moment she settled her mind and stood. “I guessed as much. I wish you luck, Leigh Caroll.”

“Don’t call me that. My last name is Winchester.”

“I hope you find answers, for your sake, and for the world’s.” There was a pop of energy and the woman disappeared once more.

Leigh flicked her sword, the motion designed to sling blood from the blade, but it was magic she dissipated.

“Neat trick,” Dean said.

“It’s not a trick. I would have peeled her skin back,” Leigh said stiffly, and when Dean couldn’t hide a shudder, she looked at her bare toes. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” Sam said, coming up behind her and touching her shoulders. “Don’t be.”

He sat her down in the chair the woman had vacated and brought them all coffee. He pulled his chair close to Leigh and pushed some sleep matted curls from her forehead. She smiled at him but then frowned again, though it was exaggerated.

“Ugh! That stuffy bitch!” Leigh exclaimed, hitting the table with her fist, making her unsheathed sword rattle.

“Word,” Dean mumbled over the rim of his cup.

“So,” Sam said, rubbing his face, scratching at the stubble on his chin, “do we even know what the prophecy is? Like, is it on paper, burned into some stone, a cloud, I don’t know...”

Leigh shook her head. “Maybe I should have asked Katherine.” She shifted in her seat, looking nervous. Finally, she said, “I don’t think it matters. I think I know what it’s about, anyway. Katherine and Dad must have thought, must have known, it’s tied to my memories, some kind of inherent knowledge. It’s becoming clearer to me by the day. What I need to do. What I’m supposed to do.”

“Which is..?”

“No, Sammy. I can’t say just yet.”

“Darlin’, we need to know what you know so we can protect you. There might be some detail—” Dean said.

Leigh slammed her cup down. “No. There’s no fucking details, alright. It’s pretty straight fucking forward, and has to do with just that. Fucking. And that’s not something I want to do, can do, or can even think about doing right now, ok?” Her voice steadily rose in pitch to a panic note, her face white, her eyes blazing as if fevered. She let out a frustrated sob and nodded, blinking back tears. She reached out and grabbed Sam’s hand and took a deep breath. “The one thing I know for certain is I am safest right here. So long as no d-demons or any-anything gets in here, I’ll be ok.”

Dean put on a cheerful smile, though his heart was aching to see his sister trying so hard to be brave and calm when she had every right to be freaking. “We’ve got your back. You’re snug as a bug in here. But just one question? Do you know, Leigh, if who you’re...who, uh—”

“My mate?” she supplied flatly.

“Yeah, that, if it, he, is going to come looking for you? Like the, uh, demons did?”

Leigh’s deep water eyes flicked up to Dean’s and he was surprised to sense sadness there. “He already knows where I am. He’s just waiting for me to be ready.”

She would say no more about it, and Dean made them all breakfast. Afterwards, when Sam stepped outside the bunker to do a perimeter check, they discovered Katherine had brought Leigh’s things and had left them at the door. Apparently she had guessed correctly that Leigh would not want to leave her brothers and had come prepared. Leigh was delighted. Some things had been destroyed during the attack when she’d been abducted, and Dean could faintly smell smoke and blood as she began opening the boxes and suitcases in the library, too excited to take it all to her room. Sam helped her make piles of clothes to be washed, things to get rid of, books to shelve, and Dean left them to it. Cas still hadn’t come out of his room and it was well into the afternoon when Dean decided to go check on him.

He knocked on his door softly, then opened it. The room was hot and there was a sharp smell in the air as Dean hurried over to the bed. Cas was flat on his back, his body drenched in sweat, so much that the blankets were plastered to him and his hair was sopping.

“Cas! Shit, man, wake up. Hey!”

He lifted Cas’ cheek from the pillow and felt his forehead. He was scalding to the touch. His breath was sour and Dean saw with alarm that there was vomit on the blankets, as if Cas had merely sat up and puked bile in his own lap. Castiel wouldn’t respond to Dean’s urgent calling, so Dean darted out of the room and back to the library.

“Cas is sick! He’s burning up, and he won’t open his eyes,” he said, skidding to a halt. He must have been more worried than he’d realised because Sam took one look at him and put down the stack of books he was carrying to the table and ran towards the angel’s room. Leigh said nothing but began searching through the boxes, rattling them, listening for something. Dean dashed back to Cas’ room. He was met halfway by Sam, Cas in his arms.

“He’s way too hot, Dean. Go run cold water in the tub—”

“No, wait, not cold,” Leigh said, coming up behind them. “Warm, body temperature. You don’t want to give him a chill, and I’ve got something that will break his fever without freezing him.”

Dean had the water going in moments and Sam lowered the angel into the tub, backing away, his worry barely suppressing his smile as Dean shouldered his way between them to hold onto Cas. Leigh was unscrewing the top off a small brown glass bottle and once the facet was off and the water calmer, she carefully dripped two drops of oil from the bottle onto the water’s surface. The room was instantly filled with the smell of oranges.

“What is that?” Dean asked, dipping a cloth in the water and gently wiping the sweat off Cas’ face and neck.

“Sweet orange oil. It will bring down his fever in moments. Just keep doing what you’re doing. Let him slip down a little more.”

Dean eased Castiel down into the water until it was over his shoulders, Cas’ body limp and unresponsive. Leigh stepped back, going to Sam and putting her arm around him, leaning into his chest. They shared a look, and Sam did smile then over Dean’s ministrations to his angel. He was talking to him now as he bathed him.

“Come on, buddy. What’s your deal? You don’t get sick! Oh, just open your eyes, ok?” Dean kept up his monologue for several minutes, his hand on the back of Cas’ neck, keeping him from sliding down under the water.

 _Dean’s in love with him, isn’t he?_ Leigh slipped into her brother’s thoughts gently.

 _Pretty sure,_ Sam responded. _Years now. It’s complicated with Castiel, though._

_Isn’t it._

Sam looked down at her, confused by her tone, but she was watching her older brother and the sick angel, her eyes half closed. Cas suddenly coughed and his eyes fluttered open. He gasped, frightened when he felt himself immersed, and latched onto Dean’s arm, trying to pull himself up.

“Whoa, Cas, it’s ok,” Dean said gently, grinning with relief. Cas was wild-eyed at first and struggled against him, but he had no strength and Dean held him easily. “You’ve got a nasty flu or something,” Dean told him, brushing Cas’ hair off his pale forehead.

“I’m very wet,” Cas mumbled, settling back against Dean’s hand.

Dean laughed. “Yeah, bath time before you burned up. Leigh, can he come out?”

“Is his skin cooler?”

“Yeah, definitely.”

Sam stepped forward and helped Dean steady Cas and they lifted him from the tub and onto his feet and then Leigh silently suggested to Sam that they leave the two alone and with a wink Dean ignored, Sam did just that, following his sister out of the bathroom. They heard Dean say, “You can’t go back to your room, it’s pretty gross in there. Come on, my room. You smell so much better, by the way...”

Castiel recovered slowly from whatever the illness was, but he never seemed to regain his full health. He slept constantly, waking up only when Dean forced him to, and as the days turned into weeks and then it was two months since Leigh’s appearance, Dean became increasingly worried. They decided to risk a trip to the hospital. That Leigh wanted to go was something they protested until she told them why. She called ahead and made an appointment for herself, wanting to know just what sort of damage had been done to her by the demonic attack.

“I feel better than I probably should, thanks to Castiel. But I know I’m not right. I can just tell, and I need to find out. Sam, you’ll wait for me, won’t you? And Dean, you’ll go with Cas, and we’ll all be close to each other and we’ll get this figured out, ok? Oh, Sammy, don’t look like that. I’m the one that’s gotta be poked and prodded,” Leigh tried to lighten everyone’s mood and Dean hugged her.

“What was that for?” she asked when she could breath again.

“You’re hard core, you know that? I’m awfully proud of you.”

“For going to the doctor?”

“Well, yeah. Who wants to do that? But you’ve faced everything that’s been thrown your way. Leigh, just don’t be afraid to crack a little, ok?”

Tears sprang into her eyes but she smiled up at Dean. “Ok. Let’s just get through this excursion. See what the damage is, get your angel fixed up, and then we’ll see if anything gives.”

Leigh made hex bags to keep her from being spotted and Dean finally came to terms with his baby sister being a witch. He’d always despised them; humans who dallied in magical forces for fun, but he was starting to learn from Leigh there was more to it. He had run into witches who did it for gain—money, longevity, power. But she was a healer. She worked with essences of plants, animals, people, seasons, the moon, then enhanced the flow of nature that was already present, and she worked her spells to heal the sick, strengthen the weak, find the lost. That she could defend herself with those same workings was just the other side of the coin. Here, she often stopped talking. Dean imagined it was a futile anger she was overcome with, that perhaps she’d have been able to protect herself from what had been done to her better with her own magic if she’d but known.

She’d asked the boys to get things for her, herbs, oils, tools, and they had obliged, but her first grocery list she’d been rather tight jawed about and Dean had researched the items later. Goldenseal and burdock root caused miscarriages. Butcher’s broom stemmed blood flow. Whether she used them or not, and Dean thought that she must have, nothing had come of what had been done to her by the demons. The moon was dark three weeks after her attack when she’d come into Dean’s room, her hand pressed to her belly, and asked him if he had an old clean shirt or two he wouldn’t mind donating to her. She waved away his concern, muttering, “Cramps,” and she’d shuffled out of his room with his clothes in her fist.


	6. Chapter 6

_there will be an end_  
_to the longing and yearning_  
_if can stand up_  
_to angels and men_  
_i’ll never get swallowed_  
_in darkness again_

 

The hospital visit went by without incident. Castiel was deemed well enough, though his white blood cell count was high as if he had some sort of infection, but if he did it was undetectable to the doctor. He was fatigued and losing weight, and was instructed to rest, which was exactly what he’d been doing, and Dean worried even more now.

Leigh was silent after they returned to the bunker other than to say that she was fine, but when she knocked on Sam’s door two nights later he could see on her face that she was taking Dean’s advice and letting the cracks begin to show. She curled up in his computer chair, one leg down so she could toe herself around in slow circles. She asked him to turn the lights out, but not before he saw the red rimmed eyes and her perfect bow of a mouth pulled down at the edges. There was still enough illumination from the translation program he was running on his computer to see her by, and he sat on the edge of his bed and waited for her.

“Sam, I was thinking...”

“Yeah?”

“If things had turned out different,” she said, her voice hard, as if she was forcing it out, “if you had stayed Lucifer’s vessel, do you think you would have come looking for me?”

“God, Leigh. I don’t know the answer to that. Look, I know what you’re thinking, but I honestly can’t say.”

“I wonder if the spell would have broken still, if seeing you would have destroyed it. Would I have wanted to go with you, anyway? I think I would have.”

“You don’t have to think about those things. It didn’t happen.”

“Yeah, well, I guess it’s a trait we share, Sammy, not being able to turn our thoughts on and off at will.”

“Are you mad at me about something?”

“You won’t stop thinking about me getting raped! I hear you all the time, see flashes of it, and while I’m over here trying to integrate it, you’re reliving it constantly!”  
  
Sam put his elbows on his knees and leaned heavily on them, looking at the dark abyss of the floor. She was right. Unbidden, the memories, both of what he had actually seen and what she had transmitted to him, wormed their way into his thoughts far too often. He’d not even been able to masturbate since she had come back into his life because the moment he felt any need, he felt guilty and then the visions would come and nausea quickly replaced any arousal he felt. Technically, he knew, like his brother had said, that it was not men who’d done that to his sister, but many of them had been in the guise of men, and Leigh had not known the difference when it was happening and before she’d not been able to think much of anything at all, she had thought, and he had felt, how horrible it was that one human could do something like that to another. Even unconscious, her mind had been working on the problem, had remembered and shared with him times when her excessive needs and lust had driven her to have sex when she hadn’t really wanted to, and she had gone through the motions even though she had not enjoyed them, not taken any pleasure in the act, had even hated what she was doing and hated the fact that the people she was with did not seem to notice, had used her anyway, and all these things boiled around in Sam’s brain constantly and he was beginning to distrust his own feelings, his own memories of love and lust, despising that he was male at all, or even sexual, because it was so hard to really know what someone else was feeling, and he never ever wanted to come anywhere close to making someone feel the way Leigh had felt. He’d rather die.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his head hanging.

Leigh sighed heavily. “Hey, can I tell you what the doctor said?”

He looked up at her. “Uh, sure, yeah, of course.”

She smiled, though it was more like a baring of teeth. “My girl parts are so scarred there’s no way I’ll ever make babies now. I have just enough of one of my ovaries left to have a period, which is just _great_ , but I’ll never be able to conceive, my womb’s destroyed. They’d never seen anything like it.”

Sam stared at her, his mouth open and moving slightly, but he had no idea how to respond. Her tears came again, and she came out of the chair and was in his arms so quickly he had no time to decide if she was attacking or hugging him. It was the latter, thankfully, and she pushed him backwards and snuggled against him on the bed, and the front of his shirt was soon soaked with her tears. His reeling mind tried to make sense of it, and harkened back to that moment in the Impala before Dean had carried her away. He had felt her burning, inside her and on her skin and he remembered the black oil and mercury and yellow-green acid-like filth he’d wiped out of the Impala’s back seat later—

“Sam!” she screamed at him, slamming her fists down on his chest. “Fucking _stop it!_ Please!”

“I don’t know how!” he yelled back at her, not defending himself from her blows. She clutched at his long hair and brought her face close to his.

“C-Castiel,” she hissed, “healed me. Enough. I don’t think he could have fixed me completely even if he’d tried really hard. There’s a reason this happened, a reason I’m this way now.”

“What is it?” Sam breathed, blinking as her tears fell on his eyes and doubled the flow down his cheeks from his own. She ignored his question.

“How do we stop you from looking at the past, Sammy? How would you leave it behind if you could? Show me.”

He closed his eyes and instantly he was back at the semi trailer. He tried to find somewhere else, but there was nowhere for him to go, nowhere else in her life that he could intercede. He didn’t want to, but his mind’s eye lifted his vision to what was happening inside. The writhing mass of bodies. From his position on the ground, he saw what Dean had not, he could see through the legs and up onto the pallet, he could see Leigh’s expressionless, bruised, bloodied face, her mouth leaking foulness, her eyes open but sightless, her cheek pressed to the wood, her arm hanging loosely, someone—some _thing_ stepping on her fingers, uncaring. He could see her body rocking obscenely and his own felt as though it had been dipped in ice water. But he also felt Leigh _now_ , felt her pressed against him, felt her fingers tightening in his hair to the point of pain. She was alive and safe, and he saw her body suddenly lift itself up and her attackers fall away as if some incredible force had simply shoved them. Leigh put her feet on the floor and stood, unblemished, a little goddess, her curving form white and whole and she walked towards him and then she was in front of him. She turned him around so he could not see the creatures crawling back to their work, and she held her warm hands over his ears until he could no longer hear the hissing and spitting of the demons in the trailer, even when she took her hands away. Her palm slid across his eyes and it was the darkest black he’d ever known and he couldn’t recall what he’d been looking at when he tried to. He smiled, accepting her gift of this black velvet curtain over the scene.

He suddenly breathed a huge sigh, and the tension he’d been storing was released as if an ocean wave had washed over him and dragged it from his body and away, and then Leigh kissed him.

He gasped and jerked his head back.

“I’m sorry!” he cried, embarrassed.

“Don’t be,” she whispered and kissed him again. He threw her off and stumbled away from the bed.

“What are you doing?” Fuck, she tasted like a peach. He wiped the back of his hand across his lips instead of licking them like he desperately wanted to.

Leigh picked herself up and got to her knees on his bed, her arms limp at her sides, her chin up, her silver-lake eyes catching all the light in the room.

“I’m doing what I need to do. But I can’t do it without you. I helped you, now you have to help me.”

“Help you do what?”

“I need to feel good again. I need to _feel_. Like a woman and not a thing, not an object, not something to be pitied or used. I need to feel strong, and I need to know I can be touched again. Will you help me, Sam?”

“Jesus, Leigh, I’m your _brother_.”

“I know that. But how would I ever explain to anyone else what happened to me. Who would ever understand my nightmares? How could I try to go about having a normal life after this? There were... _so many_...terrible things, Sam. And my brothers can protect me from them, are the only ones who know what I’ve been through. Besides, it’s not like I can get pregnant from you. That’s been taken care of,” she said simply, without the former bitterness.

“You should leave.”

She frowned, her shoulders falling. “You’ll really send me away? You won’t help me?”

“I love you, Leigh, but I won’t do this.”

“Won’t. Not can’t?” she said, and got to her feet. She walked slowly towards him, and on the third step she flipped her shirt over her head, and by the fifth she dropped her pajama bottoms and her panties to the ground, and at the seventh step she was standing in front of him, her head craned back, her throat exposed, her lips parted.

“Sammy,” she purred, “touch me. Tell me I’m not tainted, not ruined. You know everything about me, and if you can love me, I can face anything. I’ll be afraid for the rest of my life that if anyone found out what happened to me and what I am, no one will ever want me. But none of that will matter if _you_ want me. I want you. So much. I love you, and by comparison, I’ve never loved anyone.”

“No, it’s just because—”

“It’s not because of any fucking thing, Sam. I’ve been with plenty of men, I’ve had enough experience to know I don’t want anymore. I want you. I _need_ you. I don’t want to make you responsible for me, but I’m telling you the truth. I need you to accept me, to love me. I so want you to.” She stepped closer to him, somehow, and he could feel the heat of her body through his clothes. “I’ll be ok if you really won’t.”

Leigh smiled crookedly at him— _god she looks so much like Dean—_ and took his hand with a feather-light touch.

 _But you’re the same as me,_ she said, her voice as honeyed as her hair. _I know the good and bad about you, too, and I love you all the more for it. Be with me, Sam._

He grabbed her shoulders, intending to push her away. _I could just back away_ , he thought, _I don’t have to push her_.

He stopped, deciding which one would be the best course of action, and eventually did neither. He held her. She leaned forward and kissed the center of his chest, over his solar plexus, her tongue flicking out and tasting him, and then her teeth scraped over his skin. Her arms went around his waist and her strong fingers kneaded into his back, right above his ass, slipping under the elastic of his sweats. She didn’t ask him to move, perhaps knowing uprooting him from the spot would spur him into some action that would result in his leaving her. Her lips traced along the muscles of his chest, her tongue darting out and trailing along his ribs, up along the crease of his armpit, down over his nipple and it hardened under her touch and she traced her route along the other side of his body, her fingers digging into his tense flesh and scratching gently over his lower back by turns.

His breathing was becoming louder, faster, and when she looked up at him his eyes were closed. There were matching tears drying on his cheeks, and she wanted to taste those, too, but without pulling him down to her she could not reach him, so she waited, and focused on what she could reach. Leigh’s hands slipped around the front of his sweats, her thumbs under the waistband and slowly, trying to distract him with kisses across his belly, she worked them down until his cock was free. It was hard and arching down and so heavy and like silk when she touched it, tentatively stroking it with her fingertips and going down onto her heels before him, and he let her go, loosing his grip on her shoulders.

Her mouth took over from her fingertips, her lips brushing along his length from head to base, then her tongue was swirling over his ball sac and she sucked it into her mouth, his cock lying over her cheek and she peered up at him again, this time finding him watching her, his hazel eyes almost black in the dim room. Her mouth popped off his balls and she smiled up at him before opening her mouth and slowly, inexorably, swallowing his cock. She wrapped one hand around the thick base and put another on his thigh, pulling herself forward onto him until her lips met her fist, her throat full, and she swallowed. He finally reacted, letting out a low moan, and she pulled off him enough to get a breath through her nose before opening her throat again and, using his body as leverage, fucked him like that, squatting on the floor, her own legs open, her eyes on him.

Soon, long strands of thick saliva were running over her chin and her hands and down her breasts and her eyes were watering and Sam was leaning back on his heels, muttering, cursing under his breath, and he reached down and caught her arm and jerked her to her feet. She gasped and then giggled shamelessly, grabbing her discarded shirt on the way to the bed that he was dragging her towards, managing to wipe away most of the drool before he slung her down. He forced her forward onto her hands and knees and she let out a loud cry when Sam ran his long fingers over her pussy, finding her wet and sensitive. His fingers parted her, and then his tongue tasted her, and then his mouth was sealed over her, his tongue dancing over her swollen clit and pushing inside of her and she did taste like a peach to him. He went slowly, wanting to please her, realising that he’d not even kissed her this deeply and god he wanted to and he showed her how much, and how he liked to kiss, sucking and teasing and lapping and dipping and when her thighs began to shake and her gasps died off into whimpers, he stopped long enough to turn her gently onto her back, her legs hanging off the bed and pushed wide open by his hands, and he returned to kissing her there and when she suddenly arched forward, one hand in his hair, the other against his throat and she was tugging and pulling on him at the same time, he knew he’d get to kiss her mouth at last.

Leigh was shaking and sighing and smiling when she pulled him up and over her, wiggling on the bed until they were both stretched out on it and she curled her legs around his hips and guided his head down to hers, licking at her come on his cheeks and lips and then opening her mouth to his. He held himself up, not putting his weight fully on her body and though his cock was aching and he wanted to fuck her more than he’d ever wanted anything he could think of at that moment, he was still afraid. Ashamed of his lust, hating himself that he wanted her in a way that had caused her so much pain before.

“Beloved fool,” she said, breaking their kiss. “I want you, Sam. I want the man you are. I want you to do whatever it is you want to me, with me. Do you understand? What do you want?”

“I want to please you. I want you to feel good.”

“ _You_  feel good and _this_ is what I want,” she said, her hand between them and wrapped around his cock. “Let me show you.”

She guided him into her, and despite her eagerness he felt her tense, so he went as slowly as he could, easing himself down onto her first, letting her get comfortable with his weight and size, with being covered by his long body. Only when she rolled her hips and her thighs relaxed around him did he let himself sink inside her, inch by inch, using every ounce of control he had. When he withdrew partly and thrust into her the first time, her nails dug into his back and she pulled him down against her and his control snapped.

When it was over and they were lying on their sides face to face, sweat matted hair clinging to their cheeks, their bodies still locked together and moving gently, and Leigh was still sighing and gasping as Sam kissed her cheeks and his cock pulsed inside her and his hands caressed her, he said, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“Leigh... How... We can’t do this again.”

She moved her head back to be able to see him clearly. “Why not?”

“Because you’re my twin sister! How would we hide this?”

“Why should we hide it?”

“What?”

“Don’t frown at me, Sam. Why should we? What’s there to be ashamed of?”

“Are you serious?”

“Sammy, no one who loves us will judge us for it. No one else has to know, but we don’t have to hide it.”

“Dean—”

“Wants us to be happy. That’s all he’s ever wanted.”

“He wouldn’t want this. Fuck, if he finds out—”

“He won’t care, Sam. Don’t you know that?”

“What, no, I don’t know that at all.”

Leigh was silent for a long time, except for a small gasp and a smile she gave her brother when he slipped away from her. She pushed him onto his back and curled up around him, listening to his heart slowly regain its composure.

“Sammy, if no one else would ever know, would you want to be with me?”

“Yes,” he answered without pause.

“I want to be with you.”

“But we can’t—”

She sat up. “Sam, I have to tell you something.”

“Are you ok?”

She smiled at him and she was the loveliest creature he’d ever seen. “I am. It’s about the prophecy. I know who it is, and he knows, too. We have never spoken of it, but it’s like we’re magnets, and I know he feels it. We’ve stayed apart because I wasn’t ready. I was afraid and he knew that and has waited for me even though it’s been very hard on him. I’m not afraid anymore.”

“Leigh—” Sam started.

“It’s Castiel, Sam. When he was in Purgatory a soul clung to him, and it’s still with him and he has to give it to me. This is where the demons had it wrong, where even I had it wrong. It’s not that I have to mate with him in the way we think of it, but we have to join together, somehow. I don’t know how, I just know physical contact will be enough and the soul will leave him and come to me and I think the prophecy is misleading saying I’ll be the wife of anyone, it just means the female in the union. I’ll be the mother of it though, I know that now.”

“I don’t...”

“No, you do. You have to understand. I need you to understand, Sam. I need you to be strong for me, to be here for me. I’m not afraid, but I don’t want to be alone with this.”

“Cas... He knows?”

“I think so, yes. That’s why he’s been avoiding me this whole time. I’ve wanted him to, I wasn’t ready or strong enough to do what needed to be done and he’s been waiting for me to come to him.”

“Who...who is it? What is it? The soul?”

“That I don’t know.”

“It could be anything!”

“Yeah.”

“Leigh, it could be something bad.”

“I have faith that it’s not.”

“You do?”

“As much as I have faith that being with you isn’t bad.” She bit her lip and looked at Sam for a long time before turning her head, hiding in the shadow of her hair. “Sam, do you think Dean will be mad about Castiel?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so, I mean, it’s not as if this is either of your faults. Are you going to tell him?”

He couldn’t see her smile. “Of course. Sam, I’ll be right back, ok?”

“You’re going to tell him about Cas _now _?”__

“No, silly.”

She pulled on her panties and her sticky tee shirt and closed the door behind her. She relieved herself and splashed her face and then went directly to Dean’s room. She knocked on his door softly and then opened it when there was no answer. She peeked her head inside, but her older brother wasn’t in his room.

“What’s up, baby girl?” Dean said in her ear.

“Fuck!” She turned and punched him in the arm. “You fucking scared me!”

“Heh. I see that,” he said, grinning, his eyes running over her disheveled form, his eyebrow rising. “I was just doing a walk through. Checking on Cas. Patrolling. You weren’t in your room, either.”

“Is Cas ok?” she asked, realising that Dean hadn’t come to Sam’s room when she wasn’t in hers to look for her. Or maybe he had.

“Well enough. Sleeping.”

There had been moments of silence and long looks between them before, many times, but this time Dean accepted that his sister was looking at him much the way he’d often looked at other girls. Appreciatively, appraisingly, approvingly. That it made him blush he didn’t care, couldn’t control it anyway, and he was proud of her in a way; that she was forward and lusty and comfortable with herself, especially after everything she’d been through. If she was testing her footing, reclaiming herself, and she wanted to do it in the safest company possible, he wasn’t going to deny her or shame her. He _would_  tease her, though.

“You want some milk and cookies before bed, little sister?”

“I’ve already got some. Come with me, I’ll share.”


	7. Chapter 7

_but you're still young, and out of line_  
_when all i need's to turn around,_  
_to make it last, to make it count_  
_i ain't gonna make the same mistakes_  
_that put my mama in her grave_  
_i don't wanna be alone_

 

Dean knew what he was walking into. He could smell it. He’d spent enough time in the Impala, in motel rooms, in very close company with his brother, to be able to identify the smell of Sam’s body when it was aroused. Oddly enough, he’d always been reminded of cocoa powder, the real stuff, dark chocolate. An almost metallic smell, but cloying. Mouthwatering. And he could smell pussy; that glycerin scent that made his cock twitch. He followed her into the room anyway. She held the door and he walked through it and the room was dark except for the changing glow of Sam’s screen saver and a digital clock, red, but his eyes, so used to seeing in the dark, adjusted quickly. The door closed behind him and Leigh’s sleek, voluptuous body move past him, shedding the tee shirt and her panties along the way. Naked, glowing like the moon, she crawled into bed and he found his brother’s form sitting in the shadow caused by his dresser, his back to the wall, his head down, his eyes gleaming. Leigh knelt next to him and put her arms around his shoulders and rubbed her cheek against his.

“Dean, Sam feels ashamed. I asked him to make love to me, to make me feel good again, and he did. He needed it, too, to stop hating himself because of something demons did to me. I told him he was being foolish to feel that way, but I had to prove it to him. He made me feel so incredibly good, so loved! I don’t think he should feel bad about it. Do you, Dean?”

He leaned back, the heat of the room, the scent of their bodies, overwhelming and heady and he felt dizzy. The palms he pressed to the door were slick with sweat.

Leigh continued, “I already know how you feel, Dean, but he needs to hear you say it.”

He found his voice. “How do you know how I feel?”

She laughed. “Oh, don’t be mad at me, but sometimes I listen to you. When you go to your room, I hear your thoughts. You think about Castiel, mostly. About touching him, stripping him naked, kissing him, taking him, repaying him the only way you know how to. That’s what gets you hard, but what gets you off is thinking about him touching you.”

“Doesn’t take a genius...” Dean said, pissed to hear his voice quiver.

“You mostly think about Castiel, but sometimes you think about Sam. Don’t you.” It wasn’t a question, not really.

He sucked in a long breath through his nose. “Sometimes.”

A embarrassed laugh came from Sam’s dark form and he shook his head, pulling away from his sister’s touch. She let him go, her teeth glinting as she grinned. Her honeyed hair was falling all around her, down her arms and back, and Dean could just see her nipples below the mass, her breasts hanging heavy and full, her soft belly curving beautifully, her wide hips and thick, strong thighs moving as she adjusted herself, giving Sam his space. Her silvery eyes reflected the red of the clock and for a moment Dean tensed, but she moved and they were moonlight again. She kept speaking, her words directed at Sam but her eyes were on her older brother.

“Sometimes. He thinks about holding you when you were a baby, Sam. He thinks you are the only one who’s ever loved him his whole life. All he has to give back to you for that love is his body. He fights for you, to make the world better, safer, for the baby brother he adores. And sometimes, he wishes the man you’ve become would take what you want, whatever you want, from him. He has a catalog, almost, of all the glares, harsh words, cold shoulders you’ve ever given him, and he replays them one at a time, making the outcome different than it was. You turn on him in each of those scenes and you hurt him. You punch him, push him, choke him, and he lets you. He wants you to, and he wants you to see how aroused that makes him. It’s so hard for him to say he’s sorry, but he wants you to be angry with him. Wants you to take it out on him. Wants you to fuck him. He wants you to want to be as close to him as he wants to be to you.”

“Stop,” Sam groaned.

“It’s true,” Dean whispered, hypnotized by Leigh’s voice, by the succinct picture she’d painted of his lifetime of guilt and pain and longing. “Why shouldn’t I feel that way, Sam? We can’t be with anyone else in this world. Everyone we get close to dies or at least something horrible happens. But we’re always together. We understand each other, understands this...this fucked up life we have.” He paused and then slapped his hands against the door. “It’s not fucked up. I like it. I like being with you. I’d do anything for you.”

Leigh’s siren’s voice spoke again. “He’s right, Sam. We need to be together. We will be stronger this way. There will never be doubt. Dean, show him.”

Sam cried out wordlessly when Dean pushed himself off the door. He was on the bed and Leigh was laughing and pulling at his shirt and Sam cringed away from him as he forced himself between his brother’s knees and grabbed his hair in his hands.

“Sammy, do you love me?” he asked, his forehead against his little brother’s. He could feel Sam shaking.

“You know I do,” came the small-voiced reply.

“I’ve died for you,” Dean said against his brother’s lips, and then he kissed him, hard, bruising their lips against their teeth and when Sam opened his mouth and moaned in pain, Dean pushed his tongue into his brother. He could taste Leigh on Sam’s lips and the thought of them together nearly made him crazy with lust. He held onto Sam and kissed him, refusing to let go until he felt Sam stir, felt his large hands come up and grip Dean’s arms and he didn’t push him away, and then Dean did pull his head back. He smiled at Sam and was rewarded with one in return, then Leigh’s insistent tugging at his shirt finally registered. He let her pull it off of him and leaned back so her fingers could pluck at the buttons of his jeans. When they were open and she’d shoved her hand down the front and found his cock and slid it partly free so it was poking up out his briefs and the open jeans, he grabbed her wrists and pulled her up and kissed her with the same fierceness he’d kissed Sam.

“I’ve thought about you, too,” he murmured against her lips.

“Oh, I know that,” she giggled. “I know what you want, big brother.”

She winked at him and pushed him back towards Sam. Sam allowed himself to be coaxed down onto the bed and once Dean had him laid out beneath him a gun to his head wouldn’t have stopped him.

Leigh snickered. “That’s one of his favourites, Sam. When you pointed his own gun at him and pulled the trigger? He comes so hard at that!”

“Fuck. Dean—”

“Shut up, Sam,” he said, his lips sliding along Sam’s neck, down his chest, over his tight, hard stomach.

It was true, and the memory made his cock ache. He would have handed the gun to Sam even if it had been loaded, and that 50-50 chance of being killed by his brother was one of the most erotic things he’d ever experienced. He had been in terrible pain, his chest bruised like he’d been kicked by a horse from the blast of rock salt Sam had unloaded on him, and lying there at the mercy of his half-possessed brother hissing his hatred down on him had laid Dean open, had tore his heart and soul, and his treacherous cock had stiffened in his jeans at the power his brother had over him in that moment.

Dean moved onto his knees, his hands on either side of Sam’s hips, his brother’s fat, half-hard cock lying in a slightly sticky nest of short curls, and when he brushed his lips along it he could smell Leigh again and as if on queue, she was behind him and pulling his jeans down over his ass. She had him naked in moments and when her hot mouth breathed against his balls and her tongue flicked out and lapped around them and then trailed upwards he decided he’d rather have something in his own mouth than make the noises he knew were going to come out when she got where she was going.

“Fuck,” Sam said.

His brother’s soft lips parted over the head of his cock and when he hollowed his cheeks and sucked him inside his mouth, it was all he could manage. He felt Dean hum in pleasure and could see Leigh’s eyes over his brother’s back as she wormed her tongue into Dean’s ass. Dean had him hard again, painfully so, and Sam knew he’d had to have done this before. Sam had been with enough inexperienced college girls, had won them over with his cute smile and a bat of his lashes, had gotten more than one awkward, sloppy, but fun nonetheless blow job from them to know when someone’s had practice. He leaned up on his elbows and watched his brother. Dean’s eyes were closed in concentration, his right hand wrapped tightly around the base of Sam’s cock, the left had caught his ball sac in between his first and middle fingers so his thumb could caress it and goddamn that felt amazing, and his mouth, his sarcastic, lippy, snide mouth, was wet and drooling and sliding up and down over Sam’s thick shaft with singular purpose. It popped off the head of his cock and Dean hissed in pleasure, his head dropping, forehead against Sam’s thigh and he knew his sister was as deep as she could go in Dean’s ass with her tongue. Her hands were pushing Dean’s cheeks apart and she was lapping and sucking and licking. 

She pulled back, said, “Sam, really, did you think Dean won _all_ of those pool games? Half the time all he had to wager was his mouth.”

“Wha—”

Dean opened his eyes and gave his brother that ‘Well, so what?’ look Sam knew too well. He thrust up into Dean’s mouth, suddenly irritated. How many times had he done it? How many men had used Dean so the brothers could get where they needed to go, to rescue some idiot from something they probably brought on themselves, how many times had they risked their lives and Dean had sucked off a biker to get directions and some gas money? And all of those times, Sam had stood nearby, oblivious to the danger his brother was in. He tried to get a grip on his Dean’s short hair, could not, and resorted to lifting him up by his throat.

“You didn’t have to do that!”

Dean coughed, but didn’t draw away, and Leigh did not stop what she was doing to him either.

“Yeah, I did. I could have pimped out your hot ass, but you’re a bit taller than most guys are comfortable with.” His hand tightened and twisted around Sam’s cock. “I just closed my eyes and pretended it was you, if it makes you feel any better.”

That smug little smile was there, and those laughing green eyes, and Sam had to have him, had to claim his brother as his. He didn’t know, and didn’t want to know— _Don’t tell me!_ he yelled at his sister silently—if other men had fucked Dean. He didn’t care. It wasn’t going to happen again, not anymore. His grip on his brother’s throat tightened and he pulled him forward, away from Leigh, bringing Dean’s face close to his own.

“If we do this, you’re ours. Mine. Leigh’s. And you never, _ever_ , do that again.”

Dean’s face was darkening from Sam’s grip on his throat, his lips drawn back from his teeth, but he didn’t struggle. His mouth moved and Sam barely made out the words.

“Make me.”

“Ours,” Leigh said, crawling towards them. “Make him ours, he means.”

Her white arms and insistent hands came around Dean’s waist and her fingers curled around his rock hard cock, jutting up between the brother’s bodies. She rubbed her palm over the tip were precome was oozing out, and Dean tried to gasp at the sensation, but Sam was holding his throat so tightly he began to see stars and hear his blood rushing in his ears and that familiar ecstasy, that blissful thought of dying at his brother’s hand rather than at the end of a cop’s gun, or dragged back into hell and ripped apart, came to him, and he surrendered to it completely. Nearly blind and with weakening fingers he began to stroke Sam’s cock tenderly, lovingly, and his eyes fluttered shut just so he could memorize the curve of it; the veins, the thickness, and then he could breathe again and he could feel Leigh’s breasts against his back as she held him up and after blinking several times he could see Sam’s face in front of him, anger and lust mingling in his eyes. Sam tightened his lips and Dean smiled weakly.

“That’s my boy,” Dean said.

Sam turned to the dresser behind him and pulled a drawer open, fumbling around for a moment before he came back with a bottle of lube and he was greased and pressing Dean backwards then. He found Dean’s asshole with his fingers first, found it wet and loose from Leigh’s attention and he guided his cock to it. Dean’s body seemed to open to him willingly and with a surprised moan he felt himself slip inside his older brother. Dean’s hand came up and slapped against his chest, though.

“Easy, Sammy,” he rasped. “Give me a second...fuck!” Dean’s head thrashed back and forth and his body tensed wonderfully around Sam and it was all he could do not to shove himself forward, fill Dean as much as he could. He closed his eyes and waited. He heard Leigh moan and opened his eyes and she was kissing Dean as he teased and pulled at her nipples. Her hand slipped down Dean’s body and wrapped around his cock and she slowly stroked him in a loose fist, and it was then that Sam felt Dean relax, and carefully, in one slow movement, he buried his cock in Dean. He didn’t mean to but he forced Leigh to move her hand and Dean groaned as she let go. She murmured something to him, stretching out next to her brothers, petting them both now. Pinching at their nipples, kissing their throats, she coaxed them on, harder, faster, more. She told Sam when to slow down, when to pause, she kissed him deeply for long moments until Dean was writhing, begging. She held Dean’s wrists away from his body when he tried to touch himself and the look on Dean’s face when she did that, the utter submissiveness, almost made Sam come right then. His brother had never looked so unguarded, so defenseless, open. There was no shield up, no reason for him to be strong, to take charge, to make decisions. For the first time ever that he could remember, Sam saw his brother as just that, his brother, a gorgeous young man with no troubles, feeling nothing but pleasure, comfortable and safe in the arms of those he loved, and Sam wanted him to be like this always, though he knew it was impossible. But he could take Dean to this place occasionally, give him this peace and pleasure and the thought of doing this again pushed him over the edge.

When he opened his eyes, it was Dean he saw first, smiling at him, his arm around Sam’s shoulders, pulling his long hair back away from his face. He felt fingers dancing along his back and a soft thigh twined through his legs and he knew his sister was on the other side of Dean and they were both watching him, looking just a little triumphant between them. Then Leigh wriggled free and pounced on Dean, shoving him back, forcing herself bodily between the brothers.

“My turn now,” she demanded and kissed Dean’s laughing mouth. He was still hard and Sam knew why she’d kept him from touching himself. She pulled Dean’s face down to kiss her neck, her shoulders, moaned when he gathered her breasts together and bit at her nipples, back and forth between them until she was shuddering, and she dragged him forward against her, the bites turning into sucking until her nipples were long and hard and she was leaning back on her hands, eyes closed, neck exposed, her curls trailing down her back and brushing the bed as Dean dug his fingers into her flesh, squeezing and petting and grabbing her hard just to hear her mew and squeak in pleasure. She squealed when Dean stood, grabbed her and lifted her, slinging her around and settling her over Sam’s body, her ass over Sam’s face. Leigh gave Dean a wicked smile over her shoulder and still looking at him, spread her legs widely, slowly lowering herself down over Sam. Her head tossed back and she shuddered when Sam tongued over her swollen clit.

Dean took a moment to appreciate the view. He’d so many times wanted to share a girl with his little brother, and that it was _this_ girl was just too perfect. Sam’s hands gripped Leigh’s ass and he pulled her down so he could slide his tongue inside her, lapping at her wetness and his own come, and Dean shuddered, his cock throbbing at the thought. When Sam lowered his head again, Dean couldn’t wait anymore. He moved carefully behind Leigh, his knees on either side of Sam’s head, and knowing that Leigh knew what he wanted, that she’d be prepared, he slid into her in one hard movement. She pushed back, letting him bottom out inside her, and arched her spine, splaying her knees as wide as they could go.

Sam flicked his hot tongue over her again while Dean found his rhythm of slow, hard thrusts. Dean closed his eyes, concentrating on his sister’s tight, wet body hanging from his cock and noting every time Sam’s tongue, accidentally or not, slid over the bottom of his cock, but they opened wide and he glanced down, making sure it was who he thought it was cupping his balls. Sam pulled and tugged on him at first, then his fingers slipped between Dean and Leigh’s body and wrapped around the base of Dean’s cock and Leigh gasped when Sam pulled Dean out of her and his gasp cannoned hers when Sam opened his mouth and swallowed him. The twins were soon making a game of taking turns with Dean’s cock and he put a hand out against the wall to hold himself up, staring down at them as Sam’s lips covered and sucked at his cock or Leigh pushed herself back over him, her ass and hips working almost frantically to fuck him. When Leigh began muttering, Dean knew he didn’t stand much of a chance.

“Fuck, that feels so good! Your cock is so nice, Dean! So hard it hurts. Oh, Sammy—” her words gave way to humming and Dean knew she was sucking Sam’s cock now, and that was so wonderfully dirty of her. “Suck your come off his cock. Never had a dick in your mouth before, huh, Sam?” Dean felt his brother shake his head. “Do you like it, Dean? Is your baby brother doing a good job?”

“Jesus, yeah,” Dean breathed, the pull and suction on the head of his cock unbelievable.

“He wants to taste it,” Leigh giggled and then there was more muffled humming as she tried to suck Sam dry. Then her lips popped off Sam’s cock with an audible noise. “Let me make him come!”

Dean couldn’t have replied even if there had been something appropriate to say, he just held as still as he could as his sister impaled herself on him again and slammed her body back against his and when his orgasm started it was like the uncoiling of some huge snake from the base of his spine, straightening and becoming impossibly larger than his body could contain and slithering up towards the center of his forehead. He made a noise he hoped was of immanency and Leigh lifted her hips and Sam wrapped his hand around his brother’s swollen cock and he tilted his head back, eagerly sucking Dean into his mouth as his body pumped its load into Sam’s throat. It seemed to go on forever, but his brother didn’t pull away until every last drop was gone and swallowed and then Dean could see again, only to find Leigh settling back over his still hard, very sensitive cock, her hands curling around Sam’s dick. She looked over her shoulder at Dean and said, “Fuck me, hard, please.”

He did, pounding himself into her as she worked Sam with both hands and her mouth was either sucking hard or making cries that were not far from pain and when Sam came again Leigh nearly ended up on the floor as his body thrashed in her grip. Dean caught her as Sam bucked under them, dragging her into his lap and they tumbled to the head of the bed, giving Sam’s long body room to writhe.

There was a moment of just breath being caught and bodies twitching as they settled, then Leigh laughed and escaped the tangled bed, using her pinkies to open the door, both her hands covered in Sam’s come, and she disappeared.

“Dean?”

“Yeah, Sam?”

“You’re ok, right? You’re not mad, really?”

“That would have to be the angriest orgasm I’ve ever had in my life.”

Sam snorted. “No, I mean, about Leigh... That she, uh, listened to you. That she knows things that maybe you didn’t want her to know?”

“Nah. So she’s a pervert. Apparently it runs in the family. I _wonder_ where we get it from?”

“Gross, Dean. Let’s not.”

“Oh, what, like you didn’t ever wonder why Dad was so hung up on Mom? They probably got freaky as hell! Dad was a handsome fucker—ow!” Dean cackled when Sam punched him, blindly, catching him in the ribs. He moved down onto the bed and stretched out next to his brother. “Ok, ok, Sammy, sorry. Heh. Anyway, I’m not mad at her, or you. I meant what I said. No one could ever understand us. We need each other.”

“Does this change anything?”

“No. Not for me.”

Leigh returned, smelling of soap and toothpaste, and she bounced onto the bed happily. She kissed them both as she crawled over them and curled up against Dean, her arm and leg hooked over him, her head on his chest so she could see Sam.

“You guys are fucking studs. Seriously, holy smokes!" She poked Dean in the side. “You were hard forever! And Sammy, you came, what, like three times tonight?”

He blushed in the darkness, but then he lifted his head, looking down at them both.

“I mean it. Us. Only.”

Dean winked at him. “Are you ashamed of me now, Sammy?”

“What, no. No, I’m not, of course not. I...I am—” he glanced up at Leigh.

“Possessive?” she supplied.

“Aw!”

“Dean, I’m serious! I am not ashamed of you, or her. Or...of this. Us. But I can’t deal with the thought of either of you doing something—fucking someone else, after we’ve been together...”

“After we’ve made love,” Leigh sighed contentedly.

“Someone else...” Dean said and wouldn’t meet his brother’s gaze.

“Promise me. Both of you. No one else.”

“No one,” Leigh said, and Dean nodded, and Sam could see him biting his cheek and he nearly slapped his own forehead for what he had completely overlooked.

 _He needs Castiel,_ Sam told his sister.

_I know. I do, too. It can’t wait any longer._

_Dean?_

_I will tell him._

_Leigh. What if something bad happens? Just one more day. For us to be together..._

_I love you so much, Sam._

_I love you, too._

He got out of bed and fumbled for some clothes.

“Where are you going?” Leigh asked, but Sam knew she knew. He stumbled when her small voice cried _Wait!_  in his head and he paused, standing with his pajama bottoms in his hand, his back to them, patiently.

 _What is it?_ he asked.

_No... Nothing. Sam, I love you. Be strong for us, ok?_

He glanced over his shoulder at Leigh. She was lying with her chin on Dean’s chest, watching Sam, her face framed by her hair. Dean’s eyes were closed, but Sam knew he wasn’t asleep.

“Whatever you need,” he said, and left before either could react.


	8. Chapter 8

_'C'mon, baby, c'mon, c'mon, darling,_  
_Let me steal this moment from you now._  
_C'mon, angel, c'mon, c'mon, darling,_  
_Let's exchange the experience, oh...'_

 

He stopped in the bathroom and washed his face and did a cursory wipe of the rest of him. He left the light off, not ready to face himself. Not in the middle of the night. It had always been hard for him to look at himself at night. So many times he’d just let Dean take care of him if he’d been hurt on a hunt, or fallen into bed bloody and dirty. Seeing himself hurt, _changed_ , and having to deal with the rest of the night, the slow hours until the warm sun appeared, had always tormented him. Unable to sleep usually, he had been left alone in the night to worry, to be afraid, too old for his brother to cuddle and comfort and take some of the fear away, and the long hours had dragged by as his heart pounded, his mind reliving everything that could have gone wrong, and this night was a night full of things that could have gone wrong. He could find comfort though, now. He had his siblings, who would welcome their little brother into their beds when the nightmares inevitably came, when he couldn’t stop his mind from racing and trying to convince him they hadn’t made it out of a predicament as unscathed as they actually had.

And perhaps there was one more person he could turn to, and for that matter, someone who needed consolation as much or more than any one of them.

He slipped into Cas’ room quietly and stopped, letting his eyes adjust to the blue gloom. The angel was curled up in a ball under his blankets and Sam felt a pang in his chest, wondering if he had gone to sleep cold, or afraid. It was stupid, and suddenly he was angry; that they’d all suffered so long, holding each other at arm’s length. To say life was short was a fucking understatement, and didn’t even actually apply in Castiel’s case. Life was tragic, dangerous, frightening, and that they went off to their separate rooms at the end of each day now seemed absurd.

“Cas,” he called softly. The angel stirred, and Sam said his name again, louder. Cas rolled onto his back and muttered something in Enochian. Sam squatted next to the bed and touched his shoulder. Cas’ eyes snapped open, the colour lost in the blue of the room and he turned his head towards Sam.

“It’s ok, Cas. Nothing is wrong,” Sam assured him.

Cas shut his eyes for a moment and his body twisted, stretching powerfully, his joints cracking, and Sam could see him as his brother did: a being so beautiful, so strong, so intrinsically good, yet dangerous, deadly. He and Dean complimented each other perfectly, they brought out the best and worst in each other and they examined those things together and destroyed, sometimes violently, painfully, sometimes gently, what didn’t work, what was useless or detrimental, and they forgave each other each and every injury, each scar, and they kept going, trying to perfect one and other in an imperfect world. And that they were _both_ good was undeniable. But they needed each other to see that good is a relative term and dependent on choices made, that to be good you have to take responsibility. Seeing these things echoed in each other, mirrored, shattered sometimes, had saved them both. More than once Castiel had saved Dean, had made sure Sam had his brother back at the end of the day. And that Castiel was beautiful Sam didn’t care to ignore any longer. These were new eyes he was seeing in the dark with, and Cas was a lovely creature, capable of so much innocence and joy. And fury. His eyes had blazed with love for the both of them, Sam realised now. Whatever he might have thought were the reasons Castiel had ever done the things he had done to them, for them, it had been because of love.

“Cas, come with me, will you? We, ah, we’re having a bit of a meeting, and we need you to be there.”

“Meeting?”

“Yeah, a family meeting.”

“I’m not part of the family.”

Sam frowned. “Yes, you are. How can you say that?”

“I’ve hurt you and Dean.”

Sam laughed. “You don’t think he and I have hurt each other? You don’t think our dad hurt us? That’s not the prerequisite, Cas.”

“What is it, then?”

“I can show you. Three reasons you’re part of our family. Do you want to see the reasons?”

“Ok, Sam.”

Cas pushed himself up and Sam stepped back and then averted his eyes instinctively when Cas stood, naked, stretched again, his sleep-hard cock bouncing. He pulled on a pair of boxers and a tee shirt and was picking up his pants when Sam said, “Uh, no you don’t have to get dressed all the way. We won’t keep you very long, if...” he trailed off.

Cas was too asleep still to notice and shrugged. He stopped at the bathroom and Sam waited, heard him piss, splash his face, spit, and he seemed more alert when he rejoined Sam, but he didn’t notice, or mind at least, that Sam moved behind him and ushered him along the hallway towards Sam’s room. Once the door was closed behind him, Sam leaned against it much as Dean had earlier, but he was using his body to block Castiel from turning and escaping. He knew Cas could move him if he really wanted to, but he had a good feeling it would not come to that. Cas took a few steps into the room and Sam saw him tilt his dark head, confused. He looked over his shoulder at Sam, and when he turned forward again, following Sam’s gaze, he gasped. Dean had materalised in front of him, naked, his body bathed in cherried shadows and salt sweat, and he caught Castiel’s wrist when he tried to step back.

“No,” Dean said. “Don’t run from me anymore, Cas. You can’t run away. You’re a part of this, and you know it’s true. Don’t you?”

Cas’ lips opened but no sound came out. He shook his head. From the door, Sam said, “These are the three reasons, Cas. Me, Dean, and Leigh.”

At Leigh’s naming, Castiel twitched and almost pulled free of Dean, but he grabbed his other wrist.

“Cas, I know. I know what the prophecy is about now. I know that you and her...have to be together.”

Sam saw Dean’s face as he said those words, recognised the hurt that drew his brows down, but he heard in Dean’s voice, for the first time, a future. A possibility.

“We don’t know what that’s going to bring,” Cas whispered.

“Does it matter?” Dean asked. “I can’t believe something from the two of you would be anything but good. And we can face it, all of us. Together.”

“I don’t know who this soul is I’m carrying.”

“Castiel,” Leigh’s voice chimed out from the darkness of the room. She was sitting in Sam’s computer chair again, the blanket around her shoulders, curled up under it and she looked so much like a child right then Sam’s heart fluttered, feeling they’d gone back in time and they would get to be kids together. She didn’t move, didn’t approach Dean and Cas, and the vision faded with her next words. “No one knows who they’re creating when they make a child. We don’t get to decide what it’s going to be.”

“But we get to decide if it happens at all or not!” Cas babbled, his hands balling up into fists in Dean’s grip.

“You’re going to die, Castiel,” Leigh said, and Dean whipped around.

“What? You never said anything—”

“It’s killing him. Destroying him. It wants to be born so badly it is fighting its way out of him. It doesn’t know any better. Doesn’t mean it’s bad. He’s just not strong enough to hold onto it. I am though.”

Sam saw Castiel’s head bow, and heard Leigh sniff back tears. He left the door and went to her, kneeling down beside her, finding her hands and holding them tightly.

 _Are you sure?_  he asked, not wanting Dean to hear him. _You don’t have to—_

_Sam, I do. I want to. I know what you’re implying. This is what I was born to do and Castiel is not going to die because we’re afraid of the unknown._

He could see her face now, see the tears escaping her eyes, but he could also see the smile she wore, and it was radiant.

 _It’ll be ok,_ she said.

_Promise?_

_No, but we’ll make it._

Behind him, Dean was making his own pleas to Cas.

“You have to, Cas. You heard her. You’ll die.”

“What if what we create kills everyone?”

“Then I’ll fucking die with you, ok? That’s good enough for me.”

“Dean, no—”

“Cas, yes. Stop telling me no, dammit! Why do you always pull away? Why do you always cut yourself off from me?”

“I’m not supposed to love you,” Cas said.

“But you do, don’t you? Say it,” Dean’s voice was fierce and he grasped Cas’ face in his hands, forcing the angel to look up at him. When Cas just let out a little sob, Dean kissed him. Kissed his lips, his eyes, his cheeks, kissed the tears spilling over his fingers, and he tangled his legs with Cas’, off balancing him and carrying him to the floor, pausing in his attack to rip away the clothing Cas was wearing before he kissed him again. Dean brought his knee up between Cas’ legs, forcing them open and he had Cas’ cock in his hand before Cas could stop him.

The angel was still resisting, but half-heartedly, but as Dean worked his fist over his cock, slowly at first, then with more force, a tighter grip, Cas gave in. He thrust against Dean’s hand and his lips opened, his tongue out and flicking and Dean gave a feral grin and caught it between his teeth, making Cas moan, and then they were almost fighting, clawing, biting, panting, writhing against each other, and Sam didn’t even realise his mouth was open until he felt Leigh’s fingers close it gently and she giggled and drew him up against her and back to his bed. They watched the lovers on the floor, and Sam thought he’d never seen anything so fucking hot in his life as his brother rutting against Castiel. They were kissing without breathing for impossibly long moments until one fell back, gasping, but the other just followed, chasing lips they’d been aching for for years, their hands fighting for control over each other’s cocks—one would jerk back, overwhelmed, overstimulated, his own shaking hand still reaching for the other’s body, until Dean had them both in his strong fingers, had their cocks pressed together and he was thrusting powerfully against Cas while the angel moaned and nipped at his lips, dragged his nails over Dean’s chest, over his nipples, making Dean hiss and lose his rhythm only to find it again until Cas was arching under him, his thick, uncut cock pouring a white torrent of come onto his belly. He pulled frantically at Dean even as his cock still pulsed, oozing, and Dean straddled his chest, an almost pained cry of pleasure coming from him as Cas took him into his mouth. Dean put one hand behind Cas’ head, holding him so he could get as much of himself down Cas’ throat as he could, the other holding himself up as he leaned over him, eyes slitted in ecstasy and he fucked Castiel’s mouth. When he came he began laughing.

“What’s funny?” Cas muttered, his voice rough.

“Not funny, just amazing. Fucking amazing,” Dean grinned at Cas, still straddling him, stroking his cheek now. “You’re perfect. Did you like that?”

“I loved it. I love you. Never have I loved so much.”

“Never?”

“Never,” Castiel said solemnly.

“Then don’t die on me.”

With that, Dean stood, and looking down at his lover, his angel, he called to his sister. She wiggled out of Sam’s embrace, her breath quickened by what she had just seen, by Sam’s loving caresses, and by excitement to be finally, willingly, facing her destiny.

Cas leaned up on his elbows, his eyes huge, watching Dean put out his hand and gently guide his sister towards them. He stepped back, away from Cas, and let Leigh’s fingers go as she knelt down beside the angel.

“Dean,” Sam said gently, and his brother was with him in the warm spot Leigh had left and Sam pulled Dean against his chest, this time being the one offering solace and comfort as their lovers sought out each other for the first time.


	9. Chapter 9

_and when she talks she fills the room with sunlight_  
_she can name her babies, every one_  
_i've returned to the place of my beginning_  
_and i can see her turning off the sun_  
_and we're sad because we think we don't belong here_

 

She had a wry smile on her face and when she touched him it was with a fingertip she dipped into the slick puddle cooling on his stomach. She brought it to her mouth and looking into his eyes, she licked his come off her finger.

“It’s a good thing I don’t need this,” she said, going back for more, “to do what needs to be done.”

“I don’t think I’d have a problem doing it again.”

Leigh threw her head back and laughed, and Dean joined her, despite himself.

“Oh, you’re right, I’m sure. But that’s not how this is going to go, is it?”

“No,” Castiel said, watching her suck on her fingers. “It’s not. We can. Have sex. If you want to. If it’s easier,” he offered. “More natural for you.”

“Pretty angel, nothing has been natural for me for quite some time. Thank you, though. Let’s just see what happens?”

“Ok,” Cas said with no voice as she straddled him.

That much contact between them, the first of any since the day they had rescued her and Cas had tried to heal her, had been thrown back as if by an electrical shock, was all it took to change everything.

“Sam,” Dean breathed, and Sam’s arms tightened around his brother’s body, feeling Dean’s heart pounding in his chest.

Leigh was glowing, her skin becoming more luminescent by the second, though she did not put off any light and the room stayed dark. Castiel's eyes seemed to reflect her shine, but when they sought out Dean for one brief moment, Dean knew the light was coming from within the angel, as well. Leigh put her hands on Castiel’s chest, lowering herself until she was lying across him, her belly meeting the place where he had come and she hovered above his face for just a moment. Sam and Dean were squinting now, the light blurring their vision, making their eyes sting. Castiel hands settled gently on Leigh’s hips, and he was lifting his head to kiss her mouth when the light flared and the brothers were forced to turn their heads.

Dean could hear them, hear Leigh’s gentle laugh and Castiel’s soft voice murmuring, overlapping, becoming a song that made him want to weep upon hearing it, but he could not see, the light cutting through his eyelids painfully. He twisted around in Sam’s arms and pulled the blanket up over both of them. He felt Sammy’s lips searching his face and he lifted his chin so his brother could kiss him in the darkness and heat under the blanket, and he loved the feeling of Sammy’s sweat trickling over his fingers, slicking their thighs as they tangled themselves together. The singing was growing louder, and between the burning in his eyes and the glorious ringing in his ears, Dean began to cry, and he could taste his brother’s salty tears as well, but they did not stop what they were doing, they could not. Dean felt celebratory somehow, like the love and closeness he felt for the people around him was perfect, unblemished by incest or sodomy or judgment of any kind. They were acting out something joyous and wonderful and it was washing away the pain they’d all been through, pain they had all faced as best they could. Not always gallantly, and not without complaint, but they had all come through without it ruining them, without it stealing their souls, and there was no one else alive who could understand what that meant.

Sam was hard again and he rolled his brother under him.

“Please?” Sam whispered against his neck and by way of answer, Dean flipped onto his stomach and lifted his ass. Sam slipped his hand over Dean’s mouth and for a moment Dean paused, confused, until Sam slid a finger between his lips and he understood then, pushing spit out of his mouth into Sam’s palm. Sam added to it his own and, his cock wet and aching, he took his brother again. Dean seemed to melt under him, inarticulate noises coming from his throat, and his back arched impossibly, his ass up and open and Sam felt the tight ring cinch around the base of his cock, and he kept his movements small, grinding in tight circles, and Dean’s hands clasped around his wrists and dug in and it was ecstasy.

There was heat, incredible heat, along with the singing and the light and Sam thought they might have made a terrible mistake, that the union of Leigh and Castiel had brought the end to them and everything else and they would die in seconds of ruptured organs and burns, and he was glad. He knew love, now. Sacrifice, grief, joy, acceptance, loss, all these things and more were bound up in love and he finally understood it and he knew he wasn’t alone and if he was going to die he was glad it was now, here, with his brother as close to him as he could possibly be, his sister in the arms of their angel, and he wanted it, wanted to see what would happen next, wanted to go forward with the people he loved the most, and it was happening—

Darkness. Floating. A silver thread of himself the only thing visible. That he knew it was his was without question, and he watched it uncoiling, emerging from somewhere unknown, and it flung itself out and it was exquisite to feel himself stretched like that in space, and suddenly he could see another thread. He knew it was Dean’s and then there was another, his sister’s, and they braided together and he could see behind them, the source of their threads and it was one place, one time, a well of spirit from which God had dipped and poured over humankind and Sam could follow their strands all the way back to the bottom when everything was one and he could see where they were going, see a beautiful kingdom ahead of them and they were all already there, they just had to walk a little further and it would be like coming home forever.

Dean was gasping beneath him, shuddering, and Sam blinked and blinked before he realised he was still under the blanket and that’s why he couldn’t see. He shrugged out from under it, pulling away from Dean, and got to his knees. The room was bathed in its own electronic dimness again. Dean rolled onto his side, panting, eyes wide, and they turned as one to the figures on the floor. Leigh was still on her knees, curled over Castiel. The angel had his arms around her and was holding her tightly, his cock inside her and they were rocking together gently, unhurriedly. Her eyes were closed but Cas’ were open and he was watching her with an awed look. He bent his knees for purchase and his movements sped up, bouncing Leigh against his thighs. She was making little noises of pleasure now, 'ah ah ah’‘s and Cas was murmuring to her and the boys could not hear what he was saying but Leigh and Cas both giggled suddenly and then Cas arched up onto the crown of his head and Leigh cried out and then settled down against Castiel’s chest and they looked so tranquil, Sam thought. His brother let out a long breath he’d been holding and then tugged at Sam’s arm.

“Did you, you know, see that? Like, out there? What the fuck?”

“I don’t know, Dean. It felt good, though, didn’t it?”

“Heaven. You’ve only seen it from the inside. That’s what it looks like from a distance,” Castiel said.

“It is beautiful,” Leigh sighed.

“God was lost, but found the way home,” the angel said, his voice husky.

“God?” Dean ventured.

“The soul attached to me. God needed a vessel and we have created one. I don’t know why. It is not ours to know. But it’s what happened.” Castiel shifted and Leigh let out a cry of surprise when he stood suddenly, easily lifting her in his arms. He carried her the few paces to the bed and deposited her gently into Sam’s lap before letting Dean tug him down.

“We’re going to need bigger sleeping places,” Castiel said and then looked sheepish when everyone laughed. “Am I wrong?”

“No, you’re not wrong,” Dean said. “Just didn’t think you’d be the one to say it. Hey, are you ok? I mean, are you better? Were you really... Is it...” he glanced at Leigh, overwhelmed. “God? You’re going to have a God-baby?”

Leigh smiled sleepily. “I guess so.” She snuggled into Sam’s chest and shivered. “No,” she replied to some unspoken thing Sam had asked. “I’m just exhausted. I didn’t want to admit to myself how scared I was. I am still scared, but for a whole different reason now. I’m still in danger, aren’t I?” she said, looking at Cas.

“Yes. For all we know, God is corporeal now. You can both be hurt, or killed. We don’t know if there’s more to the prophecy somewhere, but I doubt the demons stopped looking for you, and if they find out what has happened, they’ll be even more driven to get to you.”

“That won’t happen,” Sam said, his jaw tight.

Leigh closed her eyes.

Dean and Castiel left Sam’s room not long after. Sam had tucked Leigh into his bed when she had fallen asleep in his arms, and knelt next to her, watching her intently, and Dean had touched Cas— _whenever you want to now!—_ and tilted his head and they had gathered their clothes and left quietly, Dean ruffling a hand through his brother’s hair.  
  
“Get some sleep, too,” he said and Sam had given him a crooked, boyish smile and nodded and Dean closed the door quietly behind him. Castiel started off down the hall towards his room.

“Hey!”

Cas turned, his face expressionless. Dean paused, suddenly unsure of himself.

“Uh, well, do you want me to... I mean, would you rather be alone?” he managed.

“Not at all. I assumed you were coming with me.”

“Oh.”

“You want to, don’t you? Or did my mating with your sister make me less desirable to you?”

“ _No_.”

“I much preferred being with you. I would like to sleep with you, as well. Not sex. Not just sex, that is. But to rest with you. Should I have asked?” Cas held out his hand to Dean. “Will you come and sleep with me?”

Dean took Cas’ chill fingers and followed the angel to his room. He stopped to strip him of his clothing once more and he removed his own before climbing into the bed and maneuvering Cas so he was lying on his side with his head on Dean’s chest.

“Cas, it’s not going to hurt Leigh like it hurt you, is it?”

“I don’t think so. The mother of God has never been hurt before.”

“How’s God going to get back into heaven? Isn’t it like...with Jesus? He has to die?”

“I don’t know, Dean. I’m sorry. I do not know God’s plan. Perhaps Leigh will, or maybe it is not for any of us to know beforehand.”

“Cas?”

“Yes?”

“What would have happened to you if you had died?”

“I don’t know that, either. I _have_ been rather ill. Leigh was right. I don’t think I could have lived much longer with that much power inside of me.”

“Oh. What would have happened to God?”

“I assume the soul would have returned to Purgatory. Or found another host and would have continued to try to get to Leigh.”

Dean was quiet for a long time, and then, “Why Leigh?”

But Castiel was asleep.


	10. Chapter 10

_you are the one that blame passed by_  
_this is the place where i will weep_  
_the loneliness of the sweet conceipt_  
_be mine sister salvation_

 

Castiel healed quickly, and Leigh bloomed, and for a little while life in the bunker was good. Dean kept his questions to himself after the first night, suspecting Leigh knew more than she was letting on, at least to him. He knew she and Sam kept up their silent communion, and he knew his brother wasn’t the type to not get what he felt he needed, especially concerning his family. But for once, Dean let everyone else take the lead. He certainly was not going to try to force Leigh into anything she wasn’t ready for. It was her destiny, her baby, her body, and Dean figured as long as he kept them all safe, he was doing what he was best at, was being the most useful he could be. Sam seemed more than eager to step into a sort of father role. He could barely stand to let Leigh out of his sight and jumped to supply her with anything she needed or wanted. Which, for her part, wasn’t that much. She was rather old fashioned about it all, Dean thought.

“Tough little gal,” he said to Cas one day.

She was teaching Sam iaido and their swords were flashing synchronistically, their bare feet thumping down in unison and as she moved powerfully through the motions the air pressed her dress back against her ripening belly. It was five months since they had all first been together, since she and Castiel had made what Dean refused to stop calling God-baby, because it made Leigh laugh delightedly and made Cas look adorably uncomfortable.

“She is,” Cas agreed. “They usually are.”

“Has she stopped avoiding you yet?”

“Not really. I feel she has a hard time being around me, unable to reconcile that I am not the same sort of supernatural creature she encountered before.”

“I’m sorry,” Dean said, petting the back of Castiel’s hand with his own.

“I am not. It would be harder if she were more interested in me.”

“Why’s that?”

Cas turned and looked at Dean with mild astonishment. “Because I love you. I wouldn’t want to hurt her, or neglect her feelings. She seems very happy with the attention you and Sam give to her, sexually and otherwise. She needed me for this one thing and I understand that.”

Dean mulled that over.

“Are you happy?” he asked.  
  
“Yes. Very much. All I ever wanted was you, Dean,” Cas said, without acrimony.

“You don’t mind sharing with Sam and Leigh?”

“Not at all. Besides, you include me, too. Also, I learn a lot watching you all together. For instance, I had no idea you liked being smothered so much. ”

Dean blushed, remembering. He had been sitting in the library, minding his own business— _you were watching Cas reading like some lovesick schoolgirl watching her crush, actually—_ when Sam had come up behind him and wrapped his large hands around Dean’s mouth and nose and held on. Dean had struggled at first, but could not get out of his brother’s grasp without breaking his own neck, and anyway, when Leigh had appeared and his pants had been stripped and she was sucking him off and then she turned and sat on his cock, using his splayed knees to hold herself, warning him not to come before she did, he stopped struggling. Sam would only allow him the smallest gasp of air every couple of minutes and had leaned down and whispered seriously fucking dirty things about Leigh’s ass and what he had been doing to it earlier into his ear. When Leigh came, her tight, wet pussy clenching deliciously around him, she had leaned back against his chest and called out to Cas, who had put his book down eventually and was watching the siblings avidly now, to masturbate for them, and Dean was still not allowed to come. Cas had complied beautifully, catching his come in his palm and he’d carefully carried it to Dean, still doing as Leigh asked him sweetly to, and Dean had been allowed to breathe long enough for him to lick up all of Cas’ come, and then Sam had control of him again and only then was he given permission to have an orgasm by rubbing his cock between Leigh’s thighs, held lightly together, just enough sensation to drive him into writhing, bucking underneath her and when he came and coated her thighs and her swelling belly with it, his vision greying, his chest straining for breath, and he literally collapsed into Castiel’s arms when the twins let him go.

He cleared his throat, shifting around to hide his erection, knowing that if any one of them noticed he would be in for it. “Well, good. I mean, not about the breathing thing—I mean, not that that’s not good, too, but I mean—Sam!” he called out, flushed. “Are we going hunting tonight or what?”

Sam stopped mid-swing. Leigh went on without him. She didn’t like being left alone with Cas but they refused to take her hunting with them, but she no longer tried to beg, bribe, or pout her way into making them stay. Whether it was her that was drawing them in or what was growing inside her, or something else entirely, there were demons popping up in state lines and Dean would not abide their proximity. He had compromised with Leigh and didn’t leave the state, wouldn’t go out further than a few hours would take them, but he would not let them get noosed by monsters idly. He and Sam went out a couple times a week, and always made their kill, and so the days went for them all; sex and violence, love and laughter, a few arguments but not many, and for the twin’s birthday Dean and Cas made good on Cas’ suggestion that a bigger bed was needed for at least one of them and they bought a California King for Leigh’s room, and the phrase ‘we're sleeping in Leigh’s bed tonight’ became an invitation.

As spring turned to summer, Dean noticed without comment that Leigh and Castiel were finally spending more time together. He would often find them quietly talking in the library or sitting on top of the bunker in the sunshine, Sam never far away, guarding them. What they spoke of he never asked and Cas never offered up, but Dean could guess the nature of it.

The morning of the full moon in October, Leigh woke Dean up before dawn. She kissed his cheek, hushing him so he didn’t wake Castiel and Dean managed to remove himself from Cas’ embrace and followed his sister, looking for all the world like ripe peach in her yellow dress and white shawl, out of the room.

“What it is, baby girl? Are you hurting?” he asked, rubbing sleep from his eyes but seeing the lines of her face were tight.

“No, not yet. But I know it’s going to happen tonight. Dean, I need you to take me to the desert.”

“What? Why?”

“I just do. Please? Don’t argue.”

“Well, jeez. What desert exactly?”

She laughed. “Um, I’m not sure. I had a dream last night. A fire, the full moon, the desert. All of you. And the baby.”

“Don’t you want to go to a hospital?”

“I’m not going to go anywhere but the desert, and you have to take me.”

“Alright, alright! Pushy momma,” he winked at her and stroked her curls. “I’ll take you anywhere you want to go, but, uh, is there anything else from the dream that might help us pick a direction?”

“It was warm. I know it can be cold in the desert sometimes, but it wasn’t in this one. It was warm.”

“Mojave it is, then.”

“Will you help me? I want to have everything ready before Sam wakes up. He won’t want me to go, but if all we have to do is get him in the car, it will be easier.”

“You know I will. At your service.”

She and Dean worked for an hour, packing food, blankets, towels, a first aid kit she had been putting together for just this reason, somehow knowing she would need it in lieu of a medical staff. She had also been asking for distilled water for weeks now, and the boys had brought her home a couple of jugs at a time after their hunts or trips into town, and Dean packed it all into the trunk, carefully rearranging the weapons so nothing got left behind. All in all, there wasn’t much to bring along but Dean tried not to fret, tried to remember women had been giving birth on their own for longer than they had doctors to aid them, by far. Leigh was right about Sam not wanting her to go and he slipped away while they argued, knowing Leigh was not going to back down by the tone of her voice and the fists on her hips and he woke Cas with a kiss and they showered together, their hands and mouths moving over each other almost frantically.

Clean, satiated, and dressed, they emerged to find the argument over and Sam making coffee, scowling still, but ready to go. Dean made them waffles and smirked when Sammy wolfed his down. Cas followed suit, but Leigh picked at hers.

“I want beer,” she stated.

“What? You can’t—”

“I swear, don’t fucking tell me what I can and cannot do when I’m about to give birth. Boys, let’s go. Dean, stop somewhere and find me a nice sweet, dark beer, ok?”  
  
Like abashed children, they followed Leigh to the Impala and headed west. She fell asleep just over the border into Colorado and Dean put his foot down and none of them made a noise until Denver was a hundred miles behind them. When she woke they were just outside of Utah and they stopped to stretch their legs and find Leigh her beer. Dean found a six pack of Oatmeal Stout and Cas sat them on the floor between his feet and they headed on towards California.

“Dude,” Dean said, fifteen hours into their journey, turning down The Black album, “where the fuck is everyone? There’s been like ten cars since the national forest back there.”

“Who cares?” Leigh growled, and Dean caught Sam’s eye in the rear view and his little brother looked terrified. Metallica had covered up the sounds Leigh had been making during her slowly increasing contractions. She was leaning back against Sam’s chest and writhing occasionally and the Impala roared across the tip of Nevada. They stopped in Las Vegas to piss and let Leigh walk around until she commanded them all back into the car. The sky was black now; they’d been chasing the sun the whole way, but it had dipped behind the mountains and the stars suddenly unfurled themselves and when they crossed into California and pulled off onto a well-kept but dirt road that Leigh had cried, “Here!’ as they came up on it, they might have been the only living things on earth at all. Then the Joshua trees began to spring up in the distance, and Cas was weeping for some reason.  
  
“Hey,” Dean said, putting his hand on Cas’ thigh.

“The stars,” he said by way of explanation.

They were wheeling overhead, dizzyingly, and when Leigh moaned and told him to stop the car and he pulled the Impala off the road and down to a ragged rocky outcropping that would protect them from any wind, Dean had to several times tap Cas’ shoulder to get his attention, so focused was he on the twinkling lights above. Sam poured a large protective circle of salt around them, inscribed various sigils in the sand, and then built a fire while Dean and Cas supported Leigh as she shuffled around, determined to stand and walk. Dean saw her fiddling with the Impala's tape deck at one point when she needed to rest, but he let it slide. Sam brought her a beer when she asked for one and only then did she settle down on a pile of blankets that allowed her to half squat and she leaned back against him again and sipped it methodically, occasionally moaning and breathing carefully as her contractions picked up pace.

When her water broke, Dean replaced the wet blankets with new ones and had Cas warm water by the fire in a covered pot to wash Leigh and the baby with when it came. He knew what to do; both he and Sam had made considerable effort to learn how to deliver a baby, but now that he was faced with it, now that his sister was arching and screaming in the dark desert night and it was God he would have in his hands, for crying out loud— _way to not blaspheme, Dean!—_ he was more than nervous. He was shaking, humming to himself, rubbing his sister’s legs when she said they hurt, and he looked around for Cas. The angel was standing at the edge of the circle, his head thrown back, his arms at his side, his eyes wide open and looking up.

“Cas _tiel_! We could use your help here!”

He didn’t move. “Something’s coming, Dean,” he said, his voice echoing.

“Yeah, your baby! Come over here and catch it for me, will you? Or, shit, at least bring me a beer, too!”

“Dean!” Sam exclaimed, but Leigh let out a pained, slightly hysterical laugh.

Cas at least followed the last order and, walking as if in a daze, he brought Dean the beer.

“What do you mean, something’s coming, Cas?” he asked as Leigh seized up and bawled her pain again, Sam holding her as she rocked on her toes and heels.

“Can’t you feel it? We’re not alone here. It’s getting stronger. Closer.”

“Dean, his eyes,” Sam said.

Castiel’s eyes were glowing faintly and before Dean could say anything, he stood again and walked to the edge of the circle, where salt met the firelight and darkness waited just on the other side, and Dean felt a rumble through his feet. Leigh’s eyes were closed tight and she was panting, breathing like she’d learned to watching videos online, and the rumbling increased until the car was rattling and loose pebbles were trickling down the rocks around them, and Dean was very glad she didn’t seem to notice.

“Cas, you make sure nothing crosses that line!”

“The salt will not stop them,” Cas said, and more rocks cascaded down.

There was nothing Dean could do, either. Leigh was no longer screaming, but she was bearing down, her knees wide apart and then Sam gave a yelp and cried, “Dean, the baby’s coming!”

Sam circled his arms around Leigh, holding her up under her arms and she was clutching his wrists so hard Dean did not in any way envy Sam’s position compared to his own, and in a rush of fluid, a bit of blood and an ecstatic sob from his sister, Dean cradled the baby’s head and shoulders as it slipped down and out of her and he let gravity carry it the rest of the way from her body. Moving together, the brothers settled Leigh back so Dean could put the sticky, wriggling form in her arms and work on tying and cutting the umbilical cord off using tools from the kit Leigh had put together. She was laughing and cooing at the little girl—yes, it was a girl, Dean confirmed as he worked around her hands to wipe the infant down with warm, wet cloths, making sure he wiped her face and nose and mouth clean very carefully and she squalled once and Dean had never heard something so wonderful.

The rumbling in the earth had not stopped.

“Dean, is it just an earthquake?” Sam asked nervously.

“Yeah, that’s it, I’m sure. We’re on major fault lines.”

“She’s so sweet. She has black hair like Castiel,” Leigh said in a sing-song voice, never having once looked up from her baby. “It’s not an earthquake. It’s the Host.”

“Oh, f—”

A sudden gust of wind that smelled faintly like roses swept the rest of Dean’s words away. Leigh winced and passed the baby to Dean and rocked forward again, the afterbirth causing more contractions, but it was over in a few minutes. Dean took the moment to wrap the baby in a soft blanket—he couldn’t help himself, he picked a black one from the pile, one he had bought and surreptitiously included.

“How metal are you, little God-baby?” he whispered.

He found Cas, still in the circle, his arms raised now. Dean followed his gaze up. The stars were moving. Not just twinkling but spiraling, circling, growing larger. He went around the fire and grabbed Castiel by his arm and dragged him forcibly back.

“Cas,” he nearly had to shout at the angel to get him to look at him. “Go help Leigh and Sam. Anything they need, you do it, ok?”

“Of course, Dean.” Cas blinked, his faintly glowing eyes finally settling on the baby and he reached out a finger and brushed the infant’s cheek.

“Sort of looks like you, doesn’t she?” Dean said. “Got your hair. Styles it the same, too.”

“The face of God,” Castiel muttered reverently.

“Go to Leigh,” Dean said softly.

The angel nodded. He relieved Sam of his position, supporting Leigh while Sam took care of the wet and bloodied blankets, replacing them once more, and he cleaned her gently, lovingly, talking to her quietly though she did not seem to be listening. Her eyes were on Dean and her baby standing on the other side of the fire, and she was smiling, letting Sam move her without resistance or any pain registering, and they laid her back, slightly propped up on blankets and when she held her arms out, Dean brought the baby to her. Stepping back, he, Sam, and Castiel stood watch over them while the ground trembled and the wind gusted and the stars fell.

“What are we going to do, Dean?” Sam asked, glancing up too now that Dean had pointed out what was happening.

“Depends on what they want.”

“You know what they want,” Cas said, his voice like distant thunder.

“Yeah, well, what about what _they_  want?” he said, nodding at his sister and her baby. She was nursing, oblivious still to the world rocking around her. “Cas, dammit, who’s side are you on, anyway?” Dean growled.

“Yes, Castiel. That has been the question we have been asking for some time now,” said a smooth, deep voice behind them.

Dean spun around, armed and ready to die to protect his sister, and Sam at his side was the same.

“Morgan Freeman, the constant gardener,” Dean drawled, and couldn’t help smirking when he saw Sam’s eyes roll.

“Joshua,” Castiel greeted the angel with a slow nod of his head.

The ground gave one last huge shudder, knocking Sam and Dean against each other, and then all was still. The wind was gone, the sliding of rocks ceased, and there was a silence the likes of which Dean had not thought possible. Even the fire made no noise. Joshua spoke in that silence.

“We thought God gone, and chaos has reigned in Heaven. Wars have been fought, eternal angels have been destroyed, and man has nearly been wiped out. Castiel, you have been barred from your Home, branded a renegade, and some have tried to destroy you. We see now how essential you were and shudder to think what might have happened had you not been strong enough and had you not been protected by this sacred bloodline.”

“How nice,” Dean rasped, “but what happens now?”

“God will return to Heaven and restore the balance.”

Sam and Dean both drew breath. Leigh cut off whatever they might have said.

“We are ready,” she said, her voice strong and clear. She had risen to her feet and came to stand next to Castiel. She was naked, having shed her bloodied dress, and the black blanket covered her belly and thighs as she held the baby to her breast, the suckling infant grasping at her hair and hiccuping contentedly.

“What? Whoa, Leigh, what are you doing?” Dean couldn’t keep his voice from shaking.

“Don’t worry, Dean. I will be back. We have so much to teach her, so much that she wants to know, needs to understand now...”

“We..?”

“Castiel,” Joshua said, “You have regained your Grace, proved your worth, and you have restored Choice to us all. You are welcome in Heaven.”

“Leigh, don’t leave,” Sam’s plea, a broken sob, echoed everything Dean could not say. He could not make anything in his body work, and yet somehow his heart kept on beating.

“Samuel Winchester. Dean Winchester. You carry the blood of Christ in your veins. This inheritance has been one of pain and loss and suffering, endured for the good of all mankind, since the dawn of humanity. You have taken on this duty and are honoured among men. This is one more test of that strength.”

“I can’t...” Dean managed, the words mostly breath. Castiel turned to him, his eyes blazing now, and Dean whimpered, shaking his head in denial of what he saw on Cas’ face.

“Cas, please.”

“I must, Dean. I will be there with Leigh, and we will never be far from you, and she is right, we can come back.”

“Then don’t go!”

“It’s not safe here, and you know that’s true. There is nowhere safer than where we are going. And we have an army to protect us.” Cas smiled and put his hand to Dean’s face and turned his head and through his tears Dean could see angels. Thousands upon thousands, spread across the desert as far as he could make out. He closed his eyes and rubbed his face into Cas’ palm, and his heart shredded when Castiel’s fingers trailed slowly down his jaw and then withdrew. He felt another hand touch him, and Leigh pressed her lips to his and then she was gone from him and he heard Sam crying. There was a rush of wind, the smell of flowers, and then the fire popped so loudly he jumped, opening his eyes. He and Sam were alone.

They burned the blankets and used the distilled water to put out the fire and they drank the rest of the beer and fell asleep in the car until the morning sun woke them. They did not speak, though they were gentle with each other when they came into contact, and they left the circle of salt in place as they roared away in the Impala.

After an hour or so, Sam started next to him as if remembering something. Reaching out, he pushed play on the tape deck.


End file.
